


For Pride and Honor

by neincraff



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: BAMF!Katara, Eventual Smut, F/M, General!Zuko, Political Drama, Slow Burn, Tw: attempted rape, War Drama, Zuko tries to be a very honorable boi, it gets slutty toward the end but u have to wait for it, its been described as 'GoT but Zutara', no-100 year war AU, no-Sozin's comet AU, pre-cannon divergence, so if that sounds like your jazz?, tw: minor character death, yea shes not very motherly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:15:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 102,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26198455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neincraff/pseuds/neincraff
Summary: Sozin’s Comet never came, but the world is marred by civil unrest that has kept the four nations isolated and divided.  The Fire Nation is embroiled in a bloody civil war that has lasted half a generation.  The rightful Firelord Iroh and his treacherous brother Ozai have battled for dominance over the archipelago for the past fifteen years.  General Zuko has won some and lost some in the conquest for his uncle, but the war continues to drag on with no end in sight.  Out of everything that’s been thrown at him so far, the last thing he expected was a waterbender to show up in the middle of his camp.
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 808
Kudos: 818





	1. Of Fate, Destiny, and Little Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! This is my latest story, and it's very near and dear to my heart. I'm going to start posting Sundays unless otherwise interrupted. I forsee this being at least 20 chapters, no more than 30. A good portion of it is already written, but the exact number of chapters has yet to be seen. A few things before we start:
> 
> No one gets raped and there isn't any rape apology amongst the main characters. However, it does get brought up during the storyline and the attempted rape happens within the first chapter. It won't happen again throughout the entirety of the story. I understand that may bother some people and, since I'm not tagging for rape because it doesn't actually occur, I wanted be be clear about what happens to anyone who might feel uncomfortable with it before you go through and read it.
> 
> This is a war story. There's going to be gore here and there throughout it. I'll put a tw in the chapter notes of the chapters when it happens, but just be aware of it. I won't warn when characters die (obviously), but be aware of that happening as well.
> 
> That being said, eventually this will turn into a romance. You just have to wait for the fun stuff :)
> 
> Without further ado, here's my latest Zutara work. I sincerely hope you all enjoy.
> 
> 12/18/2020 EDIT: I've gone back through and fixed some minor grammar issues and added in the intro paragraphs throughout. Thanks a million to we-were-angels (untilwefallinlove)'s work [everything i am](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26224156/chapters/63825403) for giving me the idea, and if you haven't read it yet, I'd highly recomend it.

* * *

The Fire Nation has had dozens of internal conflicts since its unification under the first Fire Lord, Amaterasu. Most take place in ancient history and detail the squabbles between different noble clans or between a noble clan and the royal family as they vied for power over the volcanic archipelago. The most famous of these was the most recent in history, during the reign of Fire Lord Iroh and his brother Ozai in the Taisho era. At the time it was merely referred to as the ‘Civil War,’ but today we call it the Sixteen Year War, the War of Two Brothers, or the Taisho Conflict.

-an excerpt from Military History of the Fire Nation: Prominent Leaders and Conflicts that Shaped the Nation

* * *

The ancient centipedal spirit stretched his legs, drumming them against the surface of his damp cavern. He heard footsteps, not his own. Human. Interesting. No mortal has visited his cavern in nearly four hundred years. Not willingly, at least. He pulled out the face of a mortal man he had taken a century ago, with long grey eyebrows and a wrinkled brow, and greeted his guest.

“Welcome.” He removed himself from the roof of his cavern and coiled around a man with the blue arrow tattoos of an airbender.

“I’m looking for someone named Koh.” The man replied, keeping his face still. This one knew who he was messing with.

“It has been a long time since I’ve added a new face to my collection.” He told the man, switching his own to a middle-aged Fire Nation man with a fu manchu. “Let alone, an Avatar.”

“Thank you for speaking to me.” The Avatar politely bowed, unfazed by the comment.

“How may I help you?” He cooed to the airbender as he continued to encircle him, pulling out a white mask with black markings where the eyebrows should be.

“I’m looking for someone. She’s lost, and I need to know where to find her.”

“There are many lost mortals.” He switched to the face of a Water Tribe girl he stole four hundred or so years ago. He did know which one the Avatar was talking about, but it had been so long since he had stolen the face of an airbender. He could use this reincarnation to finally get back at Kuruk for trying to slay him. A faceless Avatar would be quite hilarious.

The Avatar remained unfazed. “She is very important to the balance of the world.”

“The little Southern waterbender you’ve been chasing after?” He kept the face, making sure the Avatar took a good look. “You are correct.”

“That’s why I need to find her,” the airbender repeated, “There’s another war brewing; the balance will be thrown back into chaos if we can’t find her in time. Hundreds will die. Do you know where she is?”

“Her destiny is not carved in the stone you have mined.” He switched his face to a chattering lemur as he entwined around the Avatar again. “Her disappearance will restore the balance you seek.”

“Her disappearance is leading the Water Tribes to war.” His voice almost sounded like he was begging, but he continued. “Can you at least tell me if she’s alive?”

“She is no longer with you.” It wasn’t a total lie, the girl was alive, but if being cryptic was help this stupid half-mortal do his job then so be it.

“Is this some elaborate stunt to try and force me to let her go?” The tone of his voice shifted to anger, and he quickly whirled around to try and catch him in the act. No dice.

“This is not about you, Avatar!” He pulled out the face of a blue demon with sharp fangs protruding from the lower lip and white around the eyes, getting so close their noses practically touched, his booming voice echoing off of the stone walls carved eons ago. Still no reaction besides a blink.

“How can she restore balance to her people if she’s dead?” The Avatar calmly asked.

“There is an alternative that you have not seen.” He shifted to the face of an old man again as he backed off. “The wolf cries for the moon, and yet you do not listen.”

“Ok…” The Avatar trailed off, skeptical of his allusion. “I came to you as my last hope to try and find her, and you think I should abandon my search?”

“Destiny is a funny thing.” He switched to the face of a brown owl. “Entrust that the current state of affairs is the correct one. You do not need her to solve the problem at hand.”

The young Avatar sighed and bowed to him before leaving. “Thank you for your wisdom.”

“We will meet again.” His voice echoed along the stony walls, and he was alone once again. What peculiar things mortals get themselves tangled up in; so concerned with the immediate consequences and their own satisfaction that they refuse to look outward. Unfortunately he did not get a new face, only an increased disdain for the folly of men. Why Tui and La and a few others ever chose to live amongst them in their petty squabbling was beyond him. He crawled back onto the ceiling and continued to stretch his legs, all several hundred of them.

* * *

-1 year later-

The day had been won, and the battle had not been taxing. They had taken Captain Hu’s forces by surprise in the little town they were hiding out in, easily rooting them out of their holes. Jiang Chen was a quiet hamlet on the far side of the island; he never would have suspected it to be a relay point for the enemy’s intelligence gathering on the army’s movements. Victory was never simple; with victory came the interrogations of the Captain they captured and decisions to be made of what to do with those that had survived. And there were the endless letters that needed to be written and stamped with his seal: one to his uncle on the throne, one to his father informing him of his defeat and the capture of his men, one to the head of the Ono family because their fourth son had been captured. War was never-ending, and sleep was perpetually just out of reach.

At the moment, he was just finishing the last of the tasks: ensuring the borders of camp were secure. Work had taken him well into the night; the myth that firebenders rose and fell with the sun did not apply when there was work to be done. The nearest known enemy encampment was on the adjacent island, and with how swift this victory was, his father was going to need to take time and regroup. He could almost see the look on his father’s face when he broke the seal from the report he had just send him, his lip curling in anger and his brows scrunching together. He knew very well what his father looked like when he was angry; it was nice for once to not be in the direct line of fire of his temper.

There were a few men here and there who sought guidance after the battle, and he allowed his tent open to those who did. The head healer stopped by to inform him of the casualties and that they needed more aloe root; he would have to send a letter to his uncle requesting more medicine. One of his captains came in informing him that he needed a few more men transferred under his command to replace those he had lost; another letter he needed to send to request more. Some of this was handled by his second in command, the Colonel present with him during the endless string of requests to help fulfill them. This latest intrusion was…different.

Two low-ranking men came into his tent, carrying between them a struggling man with a sack over their head.

“Forgive the intrusion so late at night, general,” one said, “we need to bring this traitor before you and receive your judgement.”

They forced whoever it was they had on their knees, then quickly removed the hood. The supposed traitor kneeling before him was quite an interesting sight. Their mouth was gagged, their long hair wild, but the most startling thing about them was the sheer amount of blood. It covered the face, staining their chin, lips, nose, and cheeks red; it covered the neck and stained the upper portion of the ragged brown shirt as well. Bright blue eyes nervously flicked around the room, and quick, shallow breathing showed their fear.

“What have you brought me?” He asked the man to the prisoner’s right. There was far too much going on with this to possibly drawl a quick conclusion from.

“Captain Jee tried to have a little fun with her," the man told him, "but she wasn’t having it. Seems that she doesn’t know her place real well after her folks in town lost. Ripped the poor captain’s throat out with her teeth like some kind of animal, saw it myself.”

That was quite a story, and an unfortunate one. Captain Jee should have died in battle serving his country, not at the hands, or teeth, of a rabid girl after he tried to rape her. More than anything else, he was disappointed; he’d thought the man was better than that, that’s why he promoted him.

“Had to put a gag in her to make sure we didn’t get bit by the wolf while we brought her to you.” The other one dryly commented.

She barely even looked human with that amount of blood on herself, let alone like a girl. But there was more to this story that needed to be told, and the two men who brought her in hadn’t figured it out yet. 

“Untie her mouth.” He told them, and after a reluctant glance at one another they did so. She licked her dry lips and tongue and tried to spit out some of the gore in her mouth. He let her have a moment to compose herself before getting into the interrogation.

“What is foreign girl doing in my camp?”

She gave him an indignant look and snapped back. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He glanced at his men and gave them a little nod, and one grabbed a fistful of her loose hair and yanked it back in retaliation for her outburst. She gave a little cry and winced as she forced her chin upward to try and lessen the pain.

“Do you know who you’re speaking to?” His colonel approached and asked her rhetorically, clearly as offended as he was by the slight.

“No.” Her voice broke as she wined out in honesty. “I don’t even know where I am.”

“This is General Zuko,” his second in command informed her, “Son of Agni, Dragon of the East, master of lightning, heir apparent of the rightful Fire Lord Iroh, Prince of the Fire Nation, and heir to the throne. You would do well for yourself if you paid him your respects.”

He straightened his back and tilted his chin up as his titles were spoken aloud to give a more imposing impression. The girl severely lacked in manners, and it seemed she needed to be thoroughly educated in who she was dealing with despite her condition. With another little nod to his men, they released her hair and she penitently bowed her head.

“Forgive me, I didn’t know, your Highness.” She tacked on the last bit like she’d nearly forgotten to say it, but her humbling change in tone was good enough for him not to be offended by it.

“You’re a day’s march from the coast of Kinawa Island, which is in the middle of the archipelago.” He informed her. “Would you care to tell me what you were doing there?”

“I’m not foreign,” she informed him quickly, “I live in the next village over, a day from here.” The softness of her voice sounded very sweet, but he wasn’t that easily swayed.

“Colonel Li,” he turned to his second, “when was the last time you saw a Fire Nation girl with eyes like that?”

“Never, general.” He replied simply with a slight shake of his head.

“Exactly.” He looked back down at the girl, harshening his tone. “The punishment for lying to a member of the royal family is death, and that was a pretty poor one.”

“I’m from the Southern Water Tribe.” She conceited, sighing as she kept her head down. “I ran away from home and came here looking for work.”

“You’re a long way from home to be looking for work.”

“It’s the truth.” She insisted, looking back up at him to plead her case. “There’s plenty of farmers that needs hands around here. With the war going on, I needed to get away.”

Again, a fact; she was starting to get the hang of this. He hadn’t heard much about the Polar Civil War other than anecdotal reports about ships passing through their waters. “You’re very unfortunate to stumble into another civil war on your escape from the first one, and your bad luck doesn’t end there.” He looked over at the men holding her. “She has a debt to pay for the death of Captain Jee. See to it.”

The two men on either side smiled smugly and nodded, and the girl’s eyes went wide as she struggled against them, desperately trying to keep herself from being hauled out of the tent toward certain doom.

“Hey, wait!” She called out, wrenching her arms and dragging her feet across the ground toward the entrance. “Wait! Let me fight for you! Let me fight to repay my debt!”

Everyone in the room stopped. The two men on either side of her looked at each other and laughed, pausing temporarily in the middle of the tent, and the colonel gave her a puzzled look. There was a reason he hadn’t ordered her gagged again. People suddenly became very, very useful before they are ordered to die, and she would never have given her secret away if he’d asked flat-out. If she was going to survive the night unharmed, she was going to have to become useful very quickly. He wasn’t stupid; not just any woman could rip out someone’s throat. It was a gruesome way to kill someone, and she wasn’t even scared of him afterward when they brought her in this tent. He wasn’t stupid enough to think she did it because of the stereotype some held of her people. He just needed to hear her say it; the soldiers that brought her in needed to hear her say it.

So, he asked. “How will a woman from the Water Tribe fight for me?”

“I’m a waterbender,” she spat out desperately, “I’m a master.”

He knew she must have been some kind of warrior, but a waterbender arriving in his army near the start of monsoon season was a blessing from the great spirit Agni himself. He had been given a very rare strategic advantage, and it was placed right into his hands. All she had to do was prove it.

“Colonel Li,” he turned to his second. “I apologize for relegating you to a servant’s task, but can you fetch the washbowl from my bedchamber?”

“Of course, general.” He politely bowed and exited the room. Within a moment he had returned with a simple clay washbowl in hand. The colonel filled it with fresh water from the pitcher and placed in on the floor. He nodded, and the two soldiers made her kneel once again before the clay bowl.

“I’m going to need my hands.” She said, taking her gaze off the water to explain to him.

“You get one.” He nodded to the two soldiers. Reluctantly, one slowly untied the bindings around her wrists, making sure to keep the other bound and secure behind her back. Everyone in the room watched with rapt attention, waiting to see what she was going to do. Waterbenders never traveled to the Fire Nation; the four nations had always remained relatively separate. He had never seen a waterbender, let alone someone from the Water Tribe. Only the Avatar travelled between the nations, and he had never met him either. He was certain that the little amount they had given her wasn’t enough to attack, but he had no idea what a true waterbending master was capable of.

Slowly, she placed the palm of her right hand over the bowl, flicking her wrist in a fluid upward motion and pulling the tips of her fingers together into a point. The water ran upward against gravity into her hand as she did so, wrapping around it like a glove. The audible gasp from the Colonel didn’t deter her, and she used the water to wash the gore off of her face and neck. When she was finished, she let the bloody water stream from her hand back into the bowl and placed her free palm on the ground.

“Does that satisfy you, general?” He could still see blood inside her mouth, a streak here and there staining her teeth when she spoke, but she looked like a person now. Like firebending, waterbending also had its simple everyday uses that he had never considered. But even little things, like washing your face or snuffing out a candle, can take a lot of concentration to do properly. The fluidity of the way she did it indicated she was no novice.

“For now.” He informed her. “I want a full demonstration tomorrow of your mastery, but you’ve earned your place. Colonel,” he turned to his second again, “see to it that she gets a tent, and get her something to wear that isn’t covered in blood.”

“Forgive me, general,” one of the soldiers asked. “What about the matter of Captain Jee? Is she walking free?”

“She isn’t walking free. She’s paying for the life she took by taking his place in this army. Her life is mine.”

He turned back to his colonel once again. “That’s another matter: make sure the waterbender survives the night. She’s one of a handful of girls in the camp and she killed a captain. If I hear any talk of revenge or someone trying to touch her, they’ll be dishonorably discharged from my army. If they manage to survive an encounter with her, that is. If not, I’ll be informing the family of the reason why they died, which I now have to do for Captain Jee, and they’re not going to be happy to have to bury their only son away from the rest of his ancestors just because he wanted to know what it was like to lay with a Water Tribe girl.” Finally, he turned to the two privates, and hoped they would pass along his message. “This wolf has teeth; if you want to keep your throat, don’t touch her.”

His colonel nodded. The two soldiers stood the girl up, freeing her other hand, and the three were escorted out by Colonel Li. With their exit, he was finally able to take his leave for the night and rest; the letter to Captain Jee’s family could wait until sunrise to be written and sent. He had the servants take off his armor, making sure it was properly placed on its pedestal, before asking them to leave for the evening. He took the two-pronged golden crown out from his topknot, carefully setting it next to the armor, relishing the feeling of his hair being free and unbound at the end of the day. He kept his thoughts meditative, pressing his mind into a calmer state to find a more restful sleep. One nagging thing kept resurfacing as he tried to drift into unconsciousness.

A waterbender was in his camp. What was he going to do with a waterbender?

* * *

The Fire Prince was an intimidating man. If the neatly polished black and gold armor weren’t enough, he had the commanding presence of someone of his station. She had no idea what his fancy titles meant or what they proved, but he certainly had an air of nobility. He had a perpetual somber glare and garish scar over half of his face to compliment it. She hadn’t been in the Fire Nation long, but that seemed unusual. There had been someone here or there with a burn scar, but not on the face. It looked like he could barely move that side of his face, even when he was yelling; she wondered if he could see out of that eye. She kept that thought tucked away for later, just in case they ever fought.

There were more burn scars as she was marched through the war camp. The ones on the face were different than his, like the skin had melted and reformed instead of forming that bright red wrinkly scar.

The night was an absolute blur; she could barely remember anything in finer detail whenever she looked back on it. Nearly getting raped will do that to you, she supposed. Her mind was still in survival instinct as she was given a space to change her clothes. No one dared peek when she undressed. To her disappointment, her white bindings were stained red as well. She had learned years ago how to get blood out of them, but it would have to wait until later.

They led her over to a far corner in the camp where the women were. She remembered he’d said there weren’t many women; it must be like the Water Tribe. No matter how far she travelled, men always had to be the superior sex.

“What’s your name?” The colonel finally asked as she was introduced to the girls.

“Kya.” Katara told them. The lie was hard to tell at first, but it had become easier over time. Once the tent and sleeping bag were set up, she removed the one material possession she still had from a little pocket inside the shirt they’d given her: her mother’s necklace. Thank the ocean and the moon and everything in between they hadn’t searched her and taken it. She carefully pulled it out, thumbing the blue waves that curled around the circular pendant before stowing it beneath her lumpy pillow.

She barely slept that night. She spent her time instead writing little notes and letters in her mind, as she had grown fond of doing since she left.

_Dear Sokka,_

_I joined the Fire Nation military. I know; Dad always teased that he could never keep me away of the battlefield. I’m not even sure what I’m fighting for this time. I got in because I killed a guy, but he deserved it. They’ve started calling me ‘the wolf’ because of it. I’m aware of the irony, even if they aren’t._

_They eat a lot of meat here; I think you’d like it. I haven’t decided whether or not you’d like the spices; you’ll have to pay me a visit and find out for yourself._

_And to be clear; I’m just on vacation. Tell Dad not to worry. I swear, you all sound like Gran-Gran when you’re worrying about me. I’ll write you tomorrow after I’ve had my first day as a Fire Nation soldier._

_Your beloved little sister_


	2. The Wolf of Jiang Chen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap 51 kudos and 7 bookmarks from one chapter? I think that's one of the best responses to a chapter I've ever had; it's definitely the best response I've ever had to a first chapter! Thank you all for showing your love for my little story; I hope you all continue to enjoy this as much as you have already!
> 
> Before I start with the next chapter, I want to clear up a few (very good!) questions I’ve gotten in the comments that don’t reveal spoilers. I know I answered these questions in the comments of the first chapter, but I want to answer them in the notes as well for anyone reading in the future or who didn’t bother reading the comments (I know I rarely do when I read fics; no judgement). In regards to age, Zuko would have just turned 29, while Katara will be 27 in 2 months. The first chapter takes place around early October, to give you a time reference. You’ll figure out what their titles and nicknames mean down the line, but none of it has do with transformation (ergo, Katara isn’t a wolf and Zuko isn’t a dragon). Because Sozin’s Comet didn’t arrive and, by extension, the 100-Year War didn’t happen, the Air Nomad Genocide didn’t happen either. Aang never got frozen and found out he was the Avatar at the normal age of 16.

* * *

Fire Prince Zuko was, by all accounts, an accomplished leader of his time. His perseverance was considered among his strongest quality: he survived the disfigurement and disinheritance by his father, an assassination attempt, and the war he fought in for eleven years. He worked for his right to be crowned Prince of the Fire Nation under Fire Lord Iroh’s reign, and he fought honorably for his right to be promoted from private all the way to general. His tactics in war were often described as subtle but safe, preferring to risk the lives of only a handful of soldiers or himself with a skillful maneuver rather than sending a score of troops to spring a trap or to create a diversion. He was a skilled firebender and one of the few lightningbenders of his day; this combined with his exemplary reputation made him quite a formidable opponent on the battlefield.

-an excerpt from Military History of the Fire Nation: Prominent Leaders and Conflicts that Shaped the Nation

* * *

The women she was introduced with the previous night got her up bright and early the following morning. It was just when she was starting to feel comfortable, too. Everyone in this country seemed to wake up at sunrise, what an awful place to have to live in.

Three were waiting outside her tent when she got herself dressed and ready. The three that were waiting on her had taken it upon themselves to be her guides and show her around. Normally she would object to being babysat, but seeing that she hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning, she appreciated knowing where the food was.

She had already forgotten their names, and apologetically she had to ask for them again as they walked down the dirt path toward the mess tent in the center of camp. She tried to memorize them this time so that she didn’t look so stupid: On Jin was the tall brunette; Yun was short and kept her black hair in a bun; Miki was middle-height between the three, just a little taller than she was, with the round face. She could remember three names.

“Why are there so few women around here?” She asked On Jin as they sat down together after getting their meal, taking a quick look around to see if there were any others. A few tables were comprised of women, but the vast majority of the population inside the tent were men. She already knew the ultimate answer to her question, but hearing their stories would get the conversation rolling.

“Only noble women are allowed to learn how to fight.” The girl explained with a stiffened posture. “Most of the men here are common born, with the exception of some of the officers. There are a few common born women who are firebenders that were conscripted, but that’s about it.”

“Women aren’t allowed to fight at all in the Northern Water Tribe, but you can in the South, where I’m from,” she told them.

“Most parents don’t want their daughters to fight,” Yun said, “Mine didn’t, but as soon as the conflict started brewing I begged them to let me learn swordplay.”

“There’s more women fighting for Ozai, the enemy, than here,” On Jin continued, “Azula, Prince Zuko’s sister, recruited a bunch of them when everyone started picking sides. Young noblewomen, like us, knew her through the Royal Fire Academy for Girls. She was a nasty piece of work, most of them were too afraid of her to say no.”

“Sounds like it runs in the family.” She said mutely, staring into the strange concoction they’d put in a bowl and called breakfast. It was thick and mushy, almost like jook from the Earth Kingdom, but whatever this was had little red flakes in it. It tasted like jook did, but the little red bits must be those fire flakes that they seemed to put in everything here. She’d been fighting to eat even the most basic dishes since she arrived a few days ago because of those little red menaces. This entire country was one big pain.

“I wouldn’t say that too loud.” Miki warned as she glanced around. “And, honestly, Zuko is the best of the bunch. Azula is manipulative and cruel, but Zuko is a lot fairer. He cares about his people, Azula just likes feeling superior to everyone else.”

“She lit my hair on fire once because I scored higher than her on a history exam.” Yun said, tucking a strand that had fallen out of her bun behind her ear.

“She made me swear to never wear a dress again because she had one that was similar,” Miki admitted, “She told me if I did, she would light it on fire.”

“How can she get away with things like that?” Katara couldn’t help but ask. “Did her parents not care how she behaved?”

“They didn’t know,” On Jin told her, “She was the Princess. If she told you to jump, you had to ask how high.”

“Her fear tactics work,” Miki said, “Azula recruited a lot of the nobility to their cause that way, not just the girls. Fire Lord Iroh had the military loyal to him, but Ozai got a lot of the eager nobles that wanted to go up in the world.”

“So, wait, how did this whole conflict happen to begin with?” She asked her friends as she tried to get a bit more food into her system.

“Fifteen years ago,” On Jin started, neatly placing her chopsticks at the edge of the bowl as she told the story. “Fire Lord Azulon passed away. He had two sons, Prince Iroh and Ozai. Prince Iroh was the eldest, so it was his birthright to become the next Fire Lord, but Ozai wanted the throne. Prince Iroh had a son, Prince Lu Ten, who was an admiral in the navy. Right after Fire Lord Azulon died, Lu Ten's ship was sabotaged and sank, killing the entire crew. It came out afterward that Ozai orchestrated the whole thing. He did it to try and make a plea for the throne, claiming that he was more fit for the role of Fire Lord since Prince Iroh didn’t have any more children. Azula was in on the whole thing and helped him plan it out, but Prince Zuko took Prince Iroh’s side in the split. So, half of the country believes that Ozai should be the rightful Fire Lord with Azula as his heir, and the other half supports Fire Lord Iroh’s claim, with Prince Zuko as his heir.”

“So, Prince Zuko is Ozai’s son, not the Fire Lord’s?”

“Yes. Ozai disowned him when this whole mess started going down. If Fire Lord Iroh loses the war, Prince Zuko won’t have his birthright anymore. There are some people that don’t believe he should have it now after being disowned, but since Fire Lord Iroh doesn’t have any other heirs, he doesn’t really have any other option than to accept Prince Zuko as his. There’s also a good portion who support Fire Lord Iroh that believe Prince Zuko had something to do with Prince Lu Ten’s death, too.”

“This is really complicated.” She winced, trying to keep it all straight in her head. “Why would Ozai disown his own son when he was claiming that having a son made him more fit for the throne in the first place?”

“That,” Yun answered, “is a story for another time.”

“Why?”

Everyone at the table suddenly stood up at perfect attention, their spines straight, arms at their side, and chins proudly pointed upward. Confused, she stood up at the table as well.

“At ease.” The colonel’s voice said behind her. The three girls sat back down, and so did she. “Kya, your presence is requested in the training yard this afternoon. Have the Lieutenant escort you there after midday meal.”

“Yes. Colonel.” She replied with a nod. She really needed to start getting better at remembering people’s titles; apparently everyone here had one, and they got upset if you forgot it. When he left, the three girls sat back down, and she followed their lead.

“Which one of you is a lieutenant?”

“I am.” On Jin replied. 

“Are you really a waterbender?” Yun asked.

“I am.”

“Are you any good?” She asked again, giving her a peculiar look.

She picked her chopsticks back up and tried to eat a small enough portion so that her tongue didn’t get burned. “I think so.”

* * *

Precisely after midday, the waterbender was escorted by one of the other women out toward the main training ground, a circular ring of dirt on the far side of camp. It was best to keep it as far from the living space as possible; accidents were common, and new firebending recruits sometimes didn’t know their own strength. The space was wide and open, with most of the brush that bordered the outskirts of camp far enough away that they didn’t start a forest fire. The straw training dummies were cleared and placed toward the shoddy wooden fence that defined the borders. He instructed the men to bring in a few barrels of water for her, and watched her combat from outside the ring.

The first man he put in against her was a spearman; he figured it would be an easy warmup for her to see if she could even really fight. As soon as the gong rung, she pulled the water out of the barrels, quicker than lightning, and waved her hand forward. It flew through the air and wrapped around the spear the man was holding. With one step backward and a sharp tug, he was disarmed. The spearman didn’t wait for her to attack again, and since she clearly had the advantage of range, he got close. With another quick step forward, the water forcefully shot at his chest and pushed him back. It must have hit pretty hard; he fell flat on his back and clutched his stomach, gasping for the air she forced out of his lungs. The match was over.

The next to face her were two swordsman. Swords were much more difficult to disarm in the manner she used before, so he wanted to see how she’d change her tactic. That was the mark of a true master: the ability to adapt yourself to a changing enemy. She pooled the water she’d used before around her arms, which became two waving tentacles. She let the two get close enough to strike, and they did so simultaneously from both sides. She swung out of the way of one, and formed the water in her right hand into an icy shield to block the other. 

She can manipulate ice as well; another interesting trick that he had no idea waterbenders could do. It made logical sense, if you grow up in a land of ice and snow. Metal swords don’t come out of ice very easily, and she must have known that; the man who got his sword stuck yanked to try and remove it, but ended up wasting precious time. She blasted him backward with the water in her opposite hand, simultaneously melting the ice and grabbing the sword. She promptly threw it out of the ring, but made some motion with her hands in doing so that he didn’t quite catch. In a flash the sword was gone, the remaining water left her right arm, and the other swordsman had his legs pinned to the ground with shards of ice by the hem of his pants. The other swordsman came running at her at full force to try and tackle her, and she promptly dropped the water in her left arm and froze the ground in his path, causing him to ungracefully slip and fall. She melted the water on the ground and the ice she used to pin the other man, encasing the two men in it so they couldn’t move any further. The match was over.

He pitted her against a firebender this time, and one that wasn’t completely green. Fire melts ice, although how quickly that could be done in battle remained to be seen. Either way, she’d have to change her tactic again and if she was going to fight for him, she’d have to learn how to fight firebenders. The firebender attack ferociously and from a distance, spitting wave after wave at her. It finally looked like she was starting to sweat now, but deftly dodged each of the attacks, using some of her water to put out the flames that got too close.

Another interesting maneuver he hadn’t considered. Water can simply put out fire, dissipating it as soon as it leaves a firebender’s hand and, therefore, their ultimate control. The further the flame is from the body, the more difficult control becomes. If it gets splashed out, then it’s gone and there’s nothing you can do about it. She finally went on the offensive when the firebender kicked, grabbing enough water to wrap around his leg and destabilize his balance. When the poor man tried to get himself back up after being winded and fire at her again, she blasted him back with a cannon of water into the fence.

Her lips curled into a triumphant smile as her opponent stayed down, clutching what must be a bruised rib judging by the awkward way he went down. She looked like a different person now as she flicked her long braid behind her back, smiling as she pulled in a deep lungful of air, the sweat beading on her forehead. Not the beast that ripped a man’s throat out the night before, but just as deadly.

He stood up, he’d done enough watching. The crowd parted around him as he stepped into the ring. Her pretty little smile quickly faded back into a stern face of concentration, and she readied herself once again.

They traded blow for blow; each of his blasts being put out or side-stepped, and each of hers being turned to steam or ducked away from. Her fighting style was ferocious and relentless; as soon as he though he had her on the defensive, she switched back to offense and had him on the run. She didn’t care that she was fighting her commanding officer or a member of royalty. He could tell from the way she threw ice his way or from how she manipulated her element: if he wasn’t careful and paying attention, he was going to get hurt. This might be a spar, but it was a serious one with consequences.

She took a moment, breaking her offensive to wipe the sweat that had begun accumulating on her forehead. He thought it was because she was tiring; he barely managed to catch the glistening string of water remaining in midair and on her hand, and she slashed toward his left. He couldn’t see it, the water just out of his range of vision, but he could feel something warm seeping from his shoulder when she caught him by surprise; she must have cut him with her own sweat.

Little did she know he had a few tricks of his own, and he’d been paying close attention to her form. She never attacked with her feet, only her hands. That was the way to get her down. He waited until she was on the move, bending a wave of water beneath her feet to propel herself on a forward offensive; he made a low, wide arcing kick that spread a burst of flames aimed for her legs. She didn’t manage to get out of the way in time as the tips of the flames licked her ankles, and she fell backward. He got up, aiming his fist at her as he pressed forward. She tried one last, desperate swat of water as she tried to back out of the way, but it was easily deflected. He stood over the defeated waterbender as she stayed down, pressed against the outside of the ring. The fight is over.

The men that had formed a little crowd to watch their fight erupted into shouts, and he lowered his fist. He gave her a hand, a gesture of good-will that she swiftly refused. Proud until the very end. It was a good, clean fight; he hadn’t met someone who managed to keep him on his toes like that in a long time.

“Get those looked at.” He told her, gesturing to where he burned her once she finally stood on her own, leaning on the railing for support.

“I can dress my own wounds.” She snapped back, the same indignant face she gave him last night returning.

“That’s an order.” He commanded this time, and she recoiled at his harsh tone. “Infection kills more often than the burn does, and you’re no use to me dead or without feet.”

Despite not addressing him with even an ounce of respect, even in defeat, she submitted and limped off to the medical tent with the lieutenant that brought her here. He took a quick peek at his own cut. It looked superficial, but being cut by someone's sweat could foster infection. Following in his own example, he asked his colonel to send a physician to his tent to have it dressed and cleaned.

* * *

“He’s infuriating!” She sounded off at dinner to her new friends over a bowl of noodles that were, once again, far too spicy to eat quickly. For once she was thankful; it gave her more time to vent since she had to eat them slowly. “He stood there and stared at me and waited until I was tired, then he stepped in?! He fought me then, just to make a show of it. He just wanted to be able to walk around and beat his chest and be proud he was the one to beat me. I mean, who does that?”

“He’s a prince,” Yun said mutely, “he can do whatever he wants.”

“He sure acts like one! Have you ever met someone so arrogant?”

“Once again, he’s really not that bad,” On Jin chimed in, “You’re lucky you fought him and not his sister. She would have just zapped you with lightning and killed you if she wanted to show off; at least he gave you a fighting chance.”

“I’m a waterbending master, not a child.” She indignantly picked up her chopsticks after her rant and managed to get some of it down. She really wasn’t in the mood for it; she would have preferred to skip dinner and go train in the moonlight after her loss, but the physician ordered her to eat and rest until the minor burns recovered.

“I can’t believe you actually got to fight him.” Yun cupped her face in her hand, twirling her noodles with her chopsticks. “I would kill to spar with him. I think half of the reason my parents let me learn swords to begin with was because he knows Dao swords.”

She took a good, hard look at the girl, slowly asking, “What do you mean?”

“Have you seen him?” Miki smiled. “Tell me you’re not that blind.”

She frowned. “You can’t be serious.”

“When I told my parents I wanted to fight for him, they was hoping we’d get an engagement out of it, and I’m still hoping for that, too.” Yun told her with a smile, and the two other girls giggled.

“A few weeks ago I was out late doing something and I caught a peek of him bending lighting at sunset.” Miki said with a little smile. “It felt like he’d zapped me right then and there, because he practices it shirtless.”

“You’re the worst!” Yun’s mouth gaped open, and she playfully shoved Miki with her elbow. “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“I don’t think I can describe the scene without blushing, that’s why!” Miki teased back. She was, in fact, blushing; her round cheeks and neck were stained scarlet.

“Keep it in your pants, girls.” On Jin jokingly warned them.

“Yes, please do.” Katara reiterated much more seriously than her friend.

“Oh, come on,” Miki pouted, “That’s half of the fun of being in the army; you’re surrounded by hot, sweaty, shirtless guys. The least you can do is look.”

“You’ve done more than just looking, if I remember correctly.” On Jin cracked, her slight smirk returning.

“You’re one to talk.” Miki threw back.

“That was one time, it was at the New Year festival, and I was drunk. I will not be doing it again.” On Jin neatly picked up her chopsticks and continued with her meal, not allowing the remark to vex her any further.

“Don’t tell me you actually slept with him.” She had to stop herself from gagging at the thought.

“Oh, no.” Yun said with a chuckle. “None of us have. It’s just girl talk.”

“I’ve seen his father one too many times, and he looks exactly like him.” On Jin continued eating. “Don’t let these two fool you: the spitting image of that man does not turn me on. Besides, he was engaged before the war started, briefly.”

“It was to that Sugawara girl, right?” Yun asked. “Mai? The one who never smiled?”

“Yea, that was her.” On Jin said, pointing at the girl with her chopsticks. “They were close, even before they got engaged. They barely had time to make it official before everything went to hell. I don’t think he’s been promised to anyone since, but then again, what do I know? There’re more important things to keep track of in the middle of a war than royal gossip.”

“I’ll help him move on.” Yun sighed and cupped her head in her hand again.

She rolled her eyes. Figures that her only friends here were drooling over the person she least wanted to see. Truly, an awful country. “That’s disgusting.”

“Don’t tell me you’re a maiden, Kya.” Miki looked over at her.

“I’m not.” She told them truthfully, a little offended. “But being forcibly recruited into his army and then being burned by him doesn’t really do it for me.”

“What are Water Tribe guys like?” Yun asked, finally getting over her swooning and back to dinner.

“Water Tribe guys are built big and sturdy, a lot more so than the men here.”

“You have any friends you could hook me up with?” Miki asked with a teasing smile.

She gave her a coy smile in return. The only person that immediately came to mind was her brother, and she would prefer to keep that thought out of her head. “The Northerners are only concerned with marriage, so don’t get your hopes up. The Southerners are looser, but there’s a lot less of us now after the war.”

“So you’ve only ever been with Southerners?” Yun asked.

“No. My last boyfriend was an Air Nomad.”

They all stopped eating, putting down their chopsticks. She suddenly realized she’d said far too much, her cheeks getting warm as the three women stared at her, wide-eyed.

“Before you ask,” she hurriedly said, starting to get up from the bench, “I don’t want to talk about it.” She curtly bowed to her friends and hastily brought her half-eaten bowl over to the bin to be cleaned by the kitchen staff before leaving the mess tent alone.

She quickly made her way away from the common area and toward the far corner of camp. Before entering her modest tent, she took a look around to make sure that no one was following and there was no one else around. She entered, clamping the tent flap closed so she couldn’t be disturbed. She carefully undid the wrappings around her burns, making sure not to tear the fabric so it could be rewrapped later. The physician had done a good job of wrapping them, and the salve he had put on the wounds had done wonders in keeping the pain and redness at bay. She pulled the water out of her canteen and wrapped it around her hand before pressing it into the burn on her right ankle.

She was never the best healer; the great healers were Northern women who spent their entire lives doing this. She never had much of a taste for the long lectures in the healer’s tent; she’d rather be out doing something active with her time. With the war, she was forced to study it in much finer detail than she would have liked. The water began to glow in her hand as she wrapped it around her ankle, and she gave a little sigh as the rest of the pain and heat in the wound subsided. She quickly worked over the right ankle before moving onto the left. When she was done, only faint brown streaks remained where bright red burns had been. In time, those too would subside. For now, she used the old wrapping to cover them back up. The physician told her that because they were minor, he wouldn’t need to check them again unless she had problems. That was good, she didn’t want anyone in camp knowing that she could heal. It was bad enough that she revealed herself as a warrior, she needed to keep the rest of her tricks secret. She’d keep up the act, laying low for the next few days and pretending like she was still wounded. The only thing wounded now was her pride; the next time she fought him, she wouldn’t go down so easily.

She laid down on her bedroll and pulled out the necklace from beneath her pillow. She decided to write to her brother again as she traced the engravings of the pendant with her fingers.

_Dear Sokka,_

_I fought the Fire Prince today. He’s an asshole, and I don’t want to talk about it._

_You’d like the girls here. I hate the spicy food, you’d probably hate it too. This vacation sucks._

_Your sister_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter cleared up some questions about the timeline of the war and what's going on with Azula. Many, many more things to come.
> 
> -nein


	3. The Dragon of the East

* * *

Fire Lord Issai (Wadō 32- Reiki 57) ruled the Fire Nation during the Reiki era. Her rule was marked by bountiful harvests and unprecedented peace after the Hitoshi Clan Uprising, which was put down by her father and predecessor, Fire Lord Hitotsu. She famously became the first woman in the royal line of succession to master lightning, later becoming the first female Fire Lord who was a lightningbender. She and her yellow dragon, Druk, became symbols of wealth, peace, and prosperity in ancient Fire Nation history. 

-an excerpt from History of the Line of Agni

* * *

“I know you’ve been a little nervous about it.” Yun told her as she led her down a narrow, winding pathway bordered by trees. “But I promise that no one comes out here this early.”

“I hope you’re right.” She rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she followed the girl to the pond where the women bathed. It was smaller and more secluded then the men’s, with thick reeds surrounding the perimeter and massive lilypads on the surface of the water. The late summer heat had taken its toll, the water now muddier and lower than usual judging by the lines scoring the dirt perimeter of the small pond.

Previously, she’d taken to bathing in the middle of the night. Sometimes she’d wait until the moon was beginning to fall, making sure that no one could see her or where she was going. The longer she stayed here, the more she tried to conform to the Fire Nation’s early-rising schedule instead of the Water Tribe’s late-owl mentality, so bathing at the crack of dawn it was.

“Besides,” Yun reminded her as she untied her hair and stripped off her tunic and trousers, “if anyone does try to peek, you can ice ‘em.”

She gave her friend a wan smile. “Good point.”

After two weeks, she was starting to get used to the girls who made an attempt to be nice to her. She wouldn’t consider them friends, but being comrades with them was nice. Having at least one person to talk to dulled the loneliness that she held in her heart from missing her home, and she hadn’t made many other friends since she’d left. Pushing the thoughts aside, she removed her own clothing and walked into the pond with the Fire Nation girl.

“I know they issue you soap, but you can use mine.” The girl lathered her hand up before handing the bar over. “I bought this the last time we got leave at this really nice boutique in Houkai, the big city on this island.”

“Thanks.” The bar smelled like lilies and citrus and some other spice that she didn’t have enough knowledge to identify. “How often do you get leave?”

“Not much.” She admitted before dunking her face and hair underneath the water. “We have leave coming up just before the New Year; we’ll have to show you around town.”

“Sounds like fun.” She lathered the bar in her hands and ran the soap on herself to scrub off the dirt and grime. “What do you do there, besides buying soap?”

“Usually, the girls and I go shopping. Get some new dresses, jewelry, and a decent meal. The army doesn’t pay much, but I’m the daughter of a daimyo and the other two are the daughters of higher-born noblemen, so we can afford to have a little fun.”

“You don’t drink?”

The girl giggled. “Oh, we drink, but it’s hard to find a bar that isn’t overrun with soldiers since a lot of people get leave at the same time.”

“I don’t think I’d want to drink around a bunch of soldiers either.”

“Most of them aren’t that bad.” She walked over to the shoreline and grabbed her comb. “But there are a few exceptions.”

She silently set the bar of soap down by the water’s edge and grabbed her own comb, which was far less expensive looking than her friend’s. She knew full-well what the exceptions were the girl was talking about. She wasn’t entirely sure if the other girls knew that those special exceptions was the reason why she was here. None of them asked; either they already knew and didn’t want to pry because of the subject matter, or they were trying to be polite as possible. Either way, she appreciated being allowed to be silent about it.

She reminded herself over and over that nothing had happened. He got her on the ground and made a motion to rip the front of her shirt, but before he could even retract the muscles in his shoulder and arm, he was choking on his own blood. He never ended up touching her to begin with, and he never would, and no one else in the camp would either. That was one blessing the general had likely unwittingly given her: everyone here knew she was deadly and untouchable.

* * *

“If you’re trying to learn to fight firebenders, you’re going to have to learn to deal with the heat better.”

She barely heard Miki’s words through the water in her ears. The midday heat at the end of the dry season was unbearable. Even the Earth Kingdom wasn’t this hot in the summer. Everything around the camp was dry and brittle: the brown grass cracked beneath her feet, the dust from the pathways and the training yards swept up and choked her with every movement. The only relief she had from it was submerging herself in the little bathing pond and freezing herself solid, clothes and all.

“I’m used to the temperature never rising above freezing.” She responded to her friends standing at the water’s edge. “And you’ve been throwing fire at me all day.”

“Let her be,” On Jin chided their mutual friend, “She’s earned it.”

At least they gave her that. They saw how experienced she was with fighting swordsman and spearman, so they’d been drilling her against other firebenders for the past week and a half. With On Jin being a lieutenant, she had her sparring with the firebenders under her command. She didn’t have a large platoon, only a few dozen men with about ten firebenders in her division, but it was enough. The leutenant threw the young, inexperienced ones at her first so she could get a better grip on how to fight them. She learned quickly that a decisive blow to the chest, enough to wind them, takes them down quickly. Firebending relied on breathing and a strong stance. She was still working on how to break their stance; most of the good ones knew how to protect their root. She’d wanted to spar over by the swimming hole or a nearby river, but her friends kindly reminded her that if she was in a real battle, she wouldn’t have access to large quantities of water. She’d have to use what she had on her person, which forced her to start carrying a waterskin around like she had in the Earth Kingdom. They still brought water barrels to the training yards for her, but she didn’t have more than fifty gallons to work with at a time. Even if it was brutally hot and laborious work, she was making progress.

“I have excellent teachers,” Katara said with a smile, “You’ve both earned it too; care to join?”

“I’m not stripping my clothes off in the middle of the day,” On Jin crossed her arms, “that’s asking for trouble.”

“I’ll bend the water out,” she offered, “I can freeze you into an iceberg like myself; it’s a great way to cool off.”

“I don’t know,” Miki looked at the other girl, “Shouldn’t we get back? They’re going to notice we’re not at training soon.”

“You’re probably right,” On Jin turned back to the pond, “Come on, waterbender. Out you come, or we’re going to get yelled at.”

With an exhale, the ice surrounding her body melted back into its original form. She dunked her head underneath the water, letting the relative coolness of it seep into her skin one last time before walking out of the pond and bending the water out of her hair and woolen clothes. Her friends tried fitting her in standard armor yesterday, but she outright refused it in favor of plain breeches and a loose-fitting shirt with leather wrist wrappings as soon as she put the metal shoulder plate on. There was no way to properly move in it, let alone go through waterbending stances. Only the rigidity of firebending suited their armor, not the fluidity of her style. Her current clothes may be more flammable and less durable, but at least she could move. 

* * *

She decidedly ended many of her days alone. She was often unable to sleep, no matter how many letters to her brother she wrote, how much she rubbed the engravings on her mother’s necklace, or how much she tried to force her body to conform to this nation's schedule. After she’d healed properly, she decided to give her sleeplessness a purpose besides sneaking away to bathe: using it to train. During the daytime she practiced on people, but nighttime was just for her. She’d go through more complicated manipulations of water that she still had yet to perfect, practice advanced forms that she hadn’t been able to master yet, or perfect basic footwork. She’d become rusty during her travels through the Earth Kingdom; sloppy, even. She hadn’t let herself go too badly, but her skills felt akin to a blunted sword that needed sharpening. The moonlight and the hush it brought over the camp were her whetstone.

She was right in the middle of it when she saw a something pass over the moon, temporarily casting a shadow over the training yard as it interrupted the stream of moonlight. She looked up in a brief panic but, whatever it was, it was not a flying bison. The body was much more slender and twisted sinuously through the air. As soon as it was visible to her, it was gone again.

With nothing better to do as the time neared midnight, she decided to follow its path of movement. It looked like it was low flying and was headed somewhere in camp. Panic began to grip her again; what if it was an angered spirit, headed here to destroy their camp? It couldn’t possibly be a beast; it moved through the air like the winter lights did, except without the hazy green glow. As she continued travelling in the direction of its flightpath she neared the heart of the camp, near the higher-ranking officials. This certainly couldn’t be good.

Technically, she wasn’t allowed outside of the women’s quarter after dark. It was the general’s rule to try and keep the sexes segregated and to not cause any unwanted issues. She could get into trouble if she was caught; she could swat away any lecherous men that might get the wrong impression from this, but she didn’t want to get berated by any of the officers. She silently debated if this was worth it to herself before ignoring the little voice in the back of her mind and quietly continuing onward. She slunk behind the rows of tents, ducking between them here or there to avoid being spotted as soldiers returning to sleep after late-night watch. Getting closer to the heart, she heard a low rumble, almost like the growl of a wolf, but much deeper and with a slight hiss at the end. She had to be getting close to it.

She rounded another corner, keeping her profile low and quiet, and she nearly screamed when a firebender illuminated the scene that she had walked into. Cupping a small flame in his hand, the General’s scarred face scowled down at her, his other hand on the neck of the serpentine spirit. He sure knew how to scowl; from the way he held the flame beneath his jaw, the shadows it cast made his angular face look even more severe. If she wasn’t so terrified, she would have though it odd to see the usually stoic man without the armor and crown, wearing plain sleeping clothes in replacement. Instead, she gasped and lost her balance as the serpent standing next to him stared at her, its piercing red gaze mirroring the man. It curled back it's scaly sips to reveal sharp white fangs beneath, its growl so deep she could feel the ground beneath her shaking.

“What the hell is that thing?” She blurted out as scrambled backward on the ground, trying to get as far away from it as possible.

“What are you doing in this part of my camp in the middle of the night?” He kept his voice low and calm, but his face was still contorted into a deadly glare.

“Trying to figure out what that was!” She pointed toward the scaled spirit next to him. It didn’t seem to like her presence, curling its lip back further and letting out a throaty hiss.

“Careful,” he warned, “he can understand you; I wouldn’t insult him. Dragons are proud.”

A dragon. It wasn’t a spirit; it was a dragon. She didn’t think they were even real, just a myth parents told their children to try and scare them, or that firebenders compared themselves to in order to feel bigger.

“Sorry.” She got herself back up and tried to stay calm as red eyes continued to stare into her soul. The last thing she wanted to do was piss it off even more, so she kept her distance and tried to look apologetic. It slowly relaxed its snarling mouth and tuned its head toward the general, craning its head to sniff his face.

“That’s your dragon?” She asked slowly, noticing how familiar the two seemed to be with one another.

“Anyone who can tame one earns the honorary title, Dragon.” The beast pressed its nose closer to his face, making him wince as it licked his unscarred cheek with a forked tongue. “He’s mine, but he’s still a teenager.”

She tried her best not to laugh as she watched as he dropped the serious demeanor to unceremoniously wipe the spit from his face with the back of his hand. “Sorry for disturbing you.” She gave a curt bow and made a motion to back away and leave.

“You didn’t answer my question.” He curtly reminded her. She begrudgingly planted herself back where she was standing.

“I saw something flying overhead and I thought it meant trouble, so I wanted to see what it was.”

“You didn’t see him flying from inside your tent.”

“No. I was training.”

He gave her a sideways glance. “In the middle of the night?”

“Is that illegal?”

He paused for a few moments, continuing to pet the scaly neck of his beast as he studied her. “Your bending is stronger at night, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” He was too smart for his own good; at this rate, he’ll have made her confess to everything that she was trying to hide.

“Mine is strongest during the day, with the zenith at midday,” he explained, softening his tone, “Perhaps the next time we spar together, it should be at your zenith and not mine.”

“Is that why you wanted me in your army so badly? So you could have a sparring partner?”

As soon as she said it, she wished that she would have just kept her mouth shut. His face deepened into a scowl again, and the dragon took note of his master’s change in demeanor by watching his reaction.

“If you’d rather be in the front of the line, I could arrange that.” He snapped back at her. His beast gave a short, low rumble and his master turned to face him, giving the dragon a similarly biting remark. “Don’t give me that.”

“What I meant was,” She tried to smooth over the tension and recover herself. “It’s important to incorporate the styles of the other nations into your own, to learn from them. It makes you stronger.” That was part of what made the Avatar so powerful; not only was he able to bend all four elements, but he could adapt the style of each of them to their fighting. She saw firsthand how Aang used this to his advantage in a fight, perhaps she could do the same. At least, it was an answer that would get her out of this bind and let her go back to her tent.

His lip curved into a slight smile, which vanished in the blink of an eye. “I’m going to forget I saw you here. Don’t make a habit of sneaking into this part of camp in the middle of the night; next time, I’m going to have to assume you’re here for nefarious reasons. And don’t go after Druk.” Seeming almost annoyed at the last statement, he nodded his head toward the dragon next to him. “It’s bad luck to hurt a dragon, but he’ll probably kill you before you get the chance to.”

The beast understood the last part, and once again gave her a high-pitched hiss and peeled back its scaly lips to reveal its fangs. 

“Sorry, Druk.” She held up her hands and tried to show she was no threat before turning back to the general. “Good evening.” She gave him a curt bow, and headed back the way she came in.

* * *

Zuko turned over to the red dragon standing next to him once they were alone and out of earshot. “And where have you been for the past two weeks? Off terrorizing farmers and eating their livestock?”

Druk turned back to him and gave three low grunts before wrapping his neck around him.

“If you miss me so much, then stop wandering off.” He grabbed the dragon’s horn and ran his hand along it as it curled itself around his chest. The dragon pressed its massive head onto his chest as the body coiled behind him, making a place for him to sit down in the grass and lean his back against him.

“You’re too old to sleep with me.” He grumbled as he stroked the scales on top of his head. “You’re not a hatchling anymore. Let me go back to bed; I’m tired.”

It was bad enough he woke him up in the middle of the night with his arrival. When he was around, he usually preferred to sleep in the patch of grass next to his tent. Often, he would wake up in the morning and find him curled up there, but tonight the dragon had been impatient. He wanted attention, even if it was nearly midnight, and forced him to get up out of bed. The dragon gave a deep growl that reverberated throughout his body and raised his head toward him and licked him again.

“Ok, fine.” He conceited and sat down in the grass, but the dragon continued licking his face and neck; he had to grab its horn and push the head away so he would stop. He couldn’t help but laugh a little at the situation as he tried to wipe the spit off of himself.

“You scared the shit out of her,” he told his pet with a smile, “She wasn’t even that afraid of me when I sentenced her to death, but you did the trick.”

The dragon pulled his head away and made a low rumble again.

“Why are you defending her?” He wondered out loud, staring into the red eyes of his pet as it blinked with both eyelids. “What do you know that I don’t?” Dragons weren’t just intelligent and capable of understanding; they could see everything about you with just a look. They could tell your ancestry, your past, and some even said they could see your future. Whatever the beast saw about her, it was enough to make him like her enough to not roast her on the spot for calling him a thing.

Maybe she was wiser than he had originally given her credit for. If you didn’t know what a dragon was then saw one flying over the officer’s part of camp, a good soldier would want to investigate it further. She had very little reason to be loyal to him, but she had proved herself reliable in that small way. After her embarrassment at his hand, she was staying up late and practicing. And that last comment she made sounded like it came straight from his uncle’s mouth. What was he going to do with her?

Instead of answering any of his questions, the dragon leaned its head back toward him, gave a little hiss, and exhaled smoke out of its nose and onto his face. Even if he was supposed to be wise, he still behaved like a child.

“I don’t want to play.” He told the dragon as he closed his eyes and leaned his head backward against the warm scales. “Go to bed.” Eventually, Druk settled and laid his head in his lap, closing his eyes to resting with his master.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not nearly enough people put Druk in their fics/artwork and I'm tired of it! He's around 19-20, so I'm kind of going with hobbit years when it comes to age (like how hobbits are still considered teenagers into their 30's). I have a few friends that used to work in a reptile lab, so his behavior is based on several different reptiles and how they used to act around me and their caretakers, particularly the crocodile that would always hiss at me and the snakes that liked to sleep inside people's sweaters.


	4. The Blue Spirit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title alone probably answers/raises a few questions lol. Glad everybody liked Druk; he will come back, he's just hiding in this chapter bc he doesn't like rain

* * *

Priests and sages from around the world could never find a credible record of any spirit in the Fire Nation that matched the basic description of the Blue Spirit. Although the Blue Spirit may be regarded as such by some in history, one popular modern conspiracy theory is that he was an assassin hired by either Fire Lord Iroh or Fire Lord Zuko because the Spirit only seemed to attack those that opposed their reign. Both died before they could be questioned thoroughly about this matter, and many historians are highly skeptical that the Blue Spirit was directly connected to either of them. 

-an excerpt from Fire Nation Myths and Legends

* * *

On the first of the month, the blessed monsoon rains everyone spoke so highly about finally came. They were like nothing Katara had ever seen before. She’d seen rain, thunder, and lightning for the first time when she arrived in the Earth Kingdom about a year ago, but it was nothing like this. She had survived blizzards in the South Pole so thick that all you could see was white and the tornados of dust in the Earth Kingdom that dug up crops and ripped the thatch roofs from farmer’s houses; neither could compare to the sight of what looked like an entire ocean pouring from the sky.

Much like the flora that had browned and wilted, the rains invigorated her. She hadn’t realized how much her chi had waned after being parched in the heat and away from a large volume of water. Like the rivers and ponds that had dried, she felt herself swell and rise again. Weeks of drilling herself to resharpen her bending combined with the sweet summer rains gave her the inner peace she’d been lacking since she’d come to the Fire Nation. The thunder made it difficult to rest without waking in the middle of the night, but the soothing sound of water rushing down her tent and pelting the ground gave her more restfulness than she’d had in weeks.

Firebenders didn’t like the rain nearly as much as she did. They knew the onslaught was coming, but they seemed more unprepared that she was expecting. Sections of camp were flooded where water couldn’t drain properly, people were displaced from their tents and activities had to be called off. When the storms were particularly heavy, all activity in the camp was halted: no training, no leaving, no entering. The mighty rains were powerful enough to brought the war to a halt; you couldn’t transport troops between islands with a typhoon raging, and you can’t firebend when the rain it so heavy you can barely see in front of yourself. 

They made her deal with the floods around the camp. Soldiers would dig trenches in the earth for the water to flow away from the camp, and she would divert the pooled rainwater through them. She was called every time something important got wet to dry it out: a shipment of food or hay, a shipment of parchment and cloth. She became much busier than she had when she was just training and, although the menial labor wasn’t nearly as fun, it gave her a bit more of a purpose than being a mindless soldier.

The only people who seemed to like her presence here were still the three girls. The other soldiers must have had heard the tale of why she was here, and tolerated her presence at best. They saw now how powerful she was, between fighting them in the sparing grounds and making herself useful around the camp, but that didn’t mean they had to like her. She saw the glares they threw her way when they thought she wasn’t watching and the way they avoided her like she was cursed. The man she killed must have been popular, either that or they didn’t like a woman having a say over her own bodily autotomy. Maybe it was because they just didn’t like foreigners, or women that could fight. Maybe the people of the Fire Nation were just uneasy to trust someone new. No matter what sparked their prejudices, they still let her go eat, sleep, and go about her work relatively unbothered.

Therefore, she was slightly surprised when she was once again summoned to the Prince’s tent. She hadn’t done anything to displease him, or else she didn’t think she had since their last encounter. No one had given her trouble, and she hadn’t created any of it. Nervously, she allowed herself to be escorted by two men toward his area of the encampment. This trip was much nicer than the first time; they didn’t bind her hands, gag her, put a sack over her head, or drag her around like an animal; at least this time, she could see where she was going. The two privates quietly flanked her sides as she bended the rainwater above their heads away, the soldiers barely looking at her as they reached the officer’s section. Once they reached their destination, one opened the flap of the tent for her to walk inside. Both stood watch on the outside of the door in the pouring rain as she entered.

“Have a seat.” The general motioned to the chair at his desk as she entered, and she obeyed. “I have a task for you, waterbender.”

“Ok.” He certainly wasn’t much of a conversationalist; no pleasant chat about the weather or a ‘thank you’ for helping keep things in order. He was straight into business. She hadn’t gotten a proper look at the room the first time she’d been inside, but his tent was much different than the rest. This portion of it was large and square, with gold-embellished mahogany furniture. There was a porcelain tea set placed next to his desk and, judging by the aroma of the room, there was fresh tea inside. The desk she was sitting looked heavy and expensive, with dragons carved into the wood around the lip of the flat tabletop. On it rested stacks of scrolls in an organized disarray, a brush, and ink. He promptly set down the brush, finishing whatever he was working on when she came in.

“You’re going to help me assassinate someone,” he told her plainly, folding his hands.

“Who’s the target?”

“You don’t need to know that. You’re the entry and exit for the assassin; you won’t have to dirty your hands.”

The assassin must not be very good if he needed an accomplice, but she kept her mouth shut. “How will I be assisting them?”

He pushed some of the paperwork aside and unfurled a map. “We’re here.” He pointed to a red symbol on the far side of an island, presumably the one they were on. It was a map of the entire Fire Nation, and from just the little glance of it she got the Fire Nation had a lot of little islands splattered around the ocean. The geography almost looked as if someone had taken a paintbrush, filled it with ink, and flicked it across a piece of paper. It looked like the one they were on was one of the larger ones, right next to the largest crescent-shaped island. “The target is passing by in a ship here.” He pointed to the southeastern coast. “You’re waterbending the assassin out to the ship and returning him tomorrow night. Is that a task you can handle?”

“How far off of the coast do I have to go?”

“It shouldn’t be more than two kilometers.”

She shook her head, continuing to examine the map. “That won’t be difficult.”

“I’ve instructed you to meet the assassin at the coastline, here," he pointed to that same spot he did earlier, "at midnight on that night. Don’t be late.”

A little confused, she looked away from the map and up at him. “I don’t get to talk this over with them?”

The edge of his lip curled into a slight smirk. “You’re not talking about this with anyone. If you tell a soul about this operation, before or after it’s completed, then you’re dismissed from my company, and that won’t be as pleasant as you think it might be.”

She wanted to roll her eyes at the threat and his dramatics, but once again, she kept her composure. “Can you at least tell me what the person I’m supposed to help looks like?”

“He’s called the Blue Spirit. He’s very elusive, and very expensive. He wears a blue _oni_ mask and fights with swords. I’ve given him your description, I paid him extra not to kill you, and he knows your role in this plan.”

Maybe it was because he was starting to get on her nerves, but she decided to prod him even further. “If your so worried about me talking, why aren’t you worried about him talking that I was involved?”

“He’s mute. He doesn’t talk.”

She nodded. It made sense, for an assassin. “Oh.”

“He will, however, slit your throat in your sleep if you go around talking about him.” He warned her as he continued scowling.

“I understand.”

“You don’t need to report to me once the task is finished.” He rolled up the map and brought his attention back to his paperwork. “I’ll hear about it. Any further questions?”

“No. Your Highness.” Damn, she nearly forgot it again.

“Then you’re dismissed. Tomorrow night, midnight, at the coast.”

When the night arrived she did as she was commanded, sneaking out of the camp and to the proper location. She had the right date and time, but the Blue Spirit was nowhere to be seen. She was sure she had the right spot he’d pointed to on the map; either the assassin was late, or she was stupid and didn’t know how to read a map. Midnight was quickly passing, and she was still alone. At least she wasn’t sitting alone in the rain; after a week straight of downpours, that night finally had a break in the rain. The rainclouds still hung over the moon, blocking out most of the moonlight and threatening to let loose and burst, but for now everything was dry.

She sulked around in the treeline right in front of the beach, quietly examining the leaves of the trees and bushes she was sitting next to. She hadn’t had the time to notice it before, but the broad-leaved plants of the Fire Nation had thin tips at the edges of the blades. When she sloped the leaves downward, the water ran perfectly down the vein in the center before dripping off the elongated tip. It was almost like the plants knew a little waterbending of their own, making the water run the way they wanted it to. If she had her way, she’d be out in the water doing something fun or practicing her bending instead of playing with leaves, but she didn’t want to make too much noise.

She heard a twig snap somewhere behind herself, interrupting her thoughts; she stood quickly and spun around. She wouldn’t have even seen him without the bright blue mask, his dark clothes completely blending into the surroundings of the forest at night. He paid her no attention, passing her by and walking out onto the sand. When she didn’t immediately follow, he turned around and nodded toward the water with his head.

She sighed and followed after him. He pulled out a sword from his back, pointing it toward a faint light on the horizon that was likely the ship they were after. She gave him a nod and froze a section of the wave that had just broken into a sheet of ice.

“You ever surf before?” She turned and asked. He stared at her in response. “Keep your knees bent, your legs wide, and weight low, like this.” She got into the correct position and demonstrated. “Twist at the knees and hips to balance, not your feet. If you fall off, I’m not gonna be able to find you that easily since you’re wearing black. So don’t fall off.”

He still gave her no indication he’d heard a single word she'd said. Sighing, she got on the sheet of ice she’d created, with the Spirit following suit. He stood behind her, getting into the position she’d instructed, and she diverted the breakers around the ice sheet and pushed them forward. Getting to the ship took no time at all, the water smooth as glass without the storms raging. When she asked her silent companion if she should create a fog for disguise, he still didn’t say anything but allowed her to do it. 

She bended them right next to the ship, freezing the little sheet of ice they rode out on onto the steel hull. The Spirit didn’t ask her to bend him upward and onto the deck; instead, he ran and grabbed portholes, outcroppings in the steel, and ropes to climb his way upward. She didn’t say anything and let him go do his business; it’s not like he was a great conversationalist.

Some time later, the Spirit returned. He nearly slipped and fell on his way down, and when he finally got unsteady footing on the little ice platform, she saw why. It was difficult to see in the nighttime and with his black clothes, but he was clutching a wound at his side. He shoved her with the opposite hand, instructing her to get moving, and she did just that. By the time they reached the shoreline, his condition worsened. He stumbled as they reached the sand and nearly collapsed on the ground. She slung his arm around her shoulder, which he didn’t seem to have the energy to push away. She led him back in the direction she had seen him come from, but with each passing step he leaned on her with more weight and his feet began to shuffle as he weakened.

“Are you really mute?” She turned and asked. He gave his usual response. “Good.” She set him down on the ground, relinquishing the weight around her shoulder as she positioned him with his back to a tree. She pulled water off of some nearby plants and wrapped it around her hand, and the Spirit made a grab for the swords on his back with his free hand.

“I’m trying to help.” She pleaded with him, and he let go of the hilt. She sat down next to him, folding her legs on the forest floor and gently reached for the wound he was covering with his opposite hand. He grabbed her wrist and uncovered his wound before she could get close, leaving a trail of blood in the path his hand moved.

“You’re too heavy for me to carry back if you’re unconscious," she reasoned, "And if I left you here, they’d follow the blood trail from the beach right to you. Let me look at it.”

He slowly removed the hand around her wrist, leaving a crimson ring around where he had touched. She rolled up his black clothing just enough to get a look at the gash on his side. It looked like he’d been stabbed, and judging by the amount of blood, it was deep. It might have ruptured his kidney, if the person who stabbed him knew where he was aiming. Before he could react again, she pressed the water to his wound and began to heal. His entire body tensed, then slowly relaxed as she did her work. She thought she heard a little sigh from underneath the mask, but it was hard to tell.

“Don’t tell the general about this, please.” She urged him as she continued her work. “It’ll be our little secret.”

The Spirit watched her the entire time, his unseen gaze going back and forth between the wound that she fixed and her face. He sure was jumpy; he could hardly sit still for a few seconds without turning his head toward every little movement and bump in the night. She got the feeling he didn’t like being touched or looked at for too long, and the further she went along the more eager he was to get up and go. Once she finished repairing the internal damage and sealing the wound, she cleaned off the outside and let him get up. He poked at it for himself, ensuring that it was fully sealed and that he wouldn’t tear it open, before giving her a curt bow and running off into the night. She was once again left alone to sneak back into camp and to try and get some sleep in the remaining hours of nighttime.

* * *

Once in bed, Zuko ran his thumb along the curved pink scar above his hip. The skin was perfectly knit together, the muscle underneath wasn’t even sore. If she hadn’t healed him, it would have been a long night. He could cauterize and sew wounds himself, which he had done before when he needed to don the mask, but that one was deep. He likely would have had to go to the physician to get it treated, which would have risked getting him exposed. He may have even bled out from it before he could get back to camp. He hadn’t expected that sly bastard to sleep with a knife under his pillow. Clearly, he had been expecting something was coming. If it wasn’t him, then someone else would have done him in. 

Although spying on her and learning more about her power was quite informing, more than anything else, he was surprised that she didn't make a run for it. He’d given her the sea, a forest filled with her element, and a ship off in the distance to pick her up from his capture. Now more than ever he was glad he had her around, but it was annoyingly confusing. The poor girl didn’t need to be helping him; she shouldn’t be helping him. He was thankful for her odd loyalty to his cause; he really had needed help getting on the ship to assassinate Admiral Bujing and doing so will help the war effort, but he didn’t understand why she did it.

He could still feel the coolness of the water, its soft glow cleaning the blood and dirt away as she pieced him back together; he didn’t even know that having that kind of ability was possible. He could still picture the way her face was illuminated against the moonlight and the glow of the water. Especially those eyes, the thing that had given her away immediately, those big blue eyes. He wasn’t even sure that he would call her attractive, but she looked so different than anyone he’d ever met. It was cute, watching her boredly bat at leaves like an owl-cat. And, all too well, he remembered how gentle her small hand was against his skin, and the way her full lips rounded perfectly when she asked, ‘does that satisfy you?’ when he first met her.

He cursed himself before undoing the tie around his trousers. It was the blood loss, he told himself, the blood loss was kicking in and making him do stupid things, like thinking about what the waterbender looked like naked; the same waterbender that ripped out a man's throat for trying to look at her naked. Half of the men in his encampment were probably doing the same thing he was right now. He was supposed to be a descendent of Agni, the great spirit of the Sun, and he was no better than a low-born man. Unable to talk himself out of it any longer, he grabbed his cock and fantasized about her.

* * *

Once again, the downpours blanketed the sky and the heavens opened, pouring fat raindrops to coat the earth. The brief respite from the rain the previous evening was pleasant, but now it was back to their new normal. And, just like two days before, Katara was pulled out lunch and toward the officer’s section of camp once again when the General requested her presence. She followed the two soldiers and ducked inside his tent for the second time this week. He was hard at work once again, burying himself in writing something at his desk. He didn’t even acknowledge her existence until she walked forward.

“I have an intelligence report here that might interest you.” He motioned to a scroll on the other side of the desk, signaling her to take it. She sat down and took it, a little confused at his lack of interest with her, across from him as he absentmindedly wrote another report.

“Admiral Bujing was killed by a fellow crewmember aboard his ship last night.” She read aloud. “Crew suspected of mutiny.” That was all that was written. Nothing about the Blue Spirit or a waterbender. The Admiral must have been the target.

“You did well.” He quietly complemented with very little inflection in his voice, still not bothering to look up from his work.

She froze. “Is that what he told you?”

“In his own way.” Was he purposefully being cryptic and monotone, or was this part of the secrecy of what he commanded her to? Now all she could think of is what the Blue Spirit had told him, and how he did so to begin with. Did he know she was a healer? Was the Spirit even mute, or was it just a ruse so she could be spied on?

He finally glanced upward when her hand fisted the scroll he’d instructed her to read, crinkling the paper. He gave her a quick once-over but still refused to look her in the eyes. “Is there something you wish to tell me?”

She released her tightened grip on the report, laying it back down on his desk. “No.”

“Then you’re dismissed.” She got up and left politely as he buried himself in work again. That was odd. She felt like something was off about him today, but she couldn’t quite place it. Maybe he did know, and he was trying to get under her skin. Maybe she was still a little tired from not sleeping last night and she was freaking out for no reason. More likely than not, it was nothing to worry about. He was trying to run an army and a country; he had a lot on his plate, and none of it concerned her. Even if she tried to convince herself she was imagining things, she found the whole experience so odd she dared bring it up over dinner and break her pledge of silence.

“Hey, On Jin. Have you heard of the Blue Spirit?”

“Where’d you hear about that?” On Jin sounded genuinely confused, giving her an odd look as she sat down across from her.

“I heard some of the other men talking about it.” She deftly lied before picking up her chopsticks. After spending so much time here, the food was finally becoming tolerable. Just like the weather, the cuisine had taken some getting used to, but it really wasn’t that bad. Tonight’s noodle concoction with bits of green onion and tofu was exceptionally tasty to her unseasoned palate.

“Anything you’ve heard about him being a spirit is nonsense.” Her friend replied before picking up her own. “He’s some rogue, nothing more.”

“I didn’t hear anything about him being a spirit, just that he exists.” She told her friend, shoving a bite of noodles into her mouth. “Thought it sounded interesting.”

“Some people claim that he’s a vengeful spirit.” The Lieutenant rolled her eyes as she explained. “That he was angered by the war and now he’s out for blood. He’s just some thug who likes to put on a mask and make money by bounty-hunting. The only reason he’s famous is because of the mystique, and because people are stupid enough to believe that a bounty hunter with a mask is a spirit.”

She nodded and didn’t say anymore, lifting the bowl to her mouth and drinking the warm broth. She let the warmth flow down into her core, calming her nerves and filling her belly. If there was one thing she knew, it was that spirits couldn’t bleed. If he was so elusive that people thought he was an apparition, then her secret was safe.


	5. Failed Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a lil shorter than I've usually been posting, but I think it has just about everything you would want in a chapter (or, at least, I think it does).

* * *

I could always tell there was something going on between them. You could see it in the way the fought; both serious and committed in their respective styles, but when they got close to one another they’d bristle like you dumped cold water on an owlcat.

-taken from the personal correspondence of Lieutenant Akami Satoshi, personal guard of the royal family

* * *

The Fire Prince finally made good on his promise: once the worst of the rains had died down, he invited her to spar one evening after dinner. Well, he hadn’t invited her directly; the offer came to her in the form on Colonel Li approaching her at dinner. And, to be fair, it wasn’t much of an invitation and more of a command because she couldn’t exactly tell him no. Either way, she felt a swell of something, either pride or anxiety, at the thought of fighting him again and that he remembered she was stronger at dusk.

The rains were heaviest during the first month, then became more periodic from there. It still rained nearly every day, but the sky was no longer dumping an ocean onto the camp. The evening he chose was a dry one; the rainclouds had cleared away for long enough that everyone knew it wouldn’t rain for at least several hours. Now that she could traverse the camp more regularly without the downpours, she noticed how much everything had changed. The brush and grass had become a vibrant green as it sent off new shoots and leaves. The dirt pathways had turned to mud at the beginning, but now the soft earth absorbed the water as it fell. The pond the women bathed in swelled and the lilypads had begun to flower; the sweet perfume of the gigantic lilyflowers seeped into her skin and hair. Everything seemed brighter and livelier, even if many of the firebenders lamented the longer nights and the hazy days the showers brought.

“I know I suggested this a month ago,” he told her as he stretched his arms before their spar, “but I figured fighting a waterbender in the pouring rain was a bad idea.” That almost sounded like sarcasm, but she couldn’t quite tell. It was hard to get a read on him, and she decided it was better to keep her mouth shut and not say anything.

“I suppose I owe you an apology.” He seemed to pick up on her slight hesitation, giving her a shallow bow. “The last time we fought, I burned you. From now on, I pledge to be more careful.”

Now she really didn’t know what to say. No one has bowed to her since she’s been here. He’s never bothered with trying to be nice to her before. But, if the Prince of the Fire Nation bowed to you, she figured that you’d better bow back. “I apologize for cutting your shoulder.” She returned his nicety, making sure her bow was deeper than his to make On Jin proud. In their newfound spare time since the rains began, she’d been schooling her on proper manners so that she could avoid offending more people than she already had. “I won’t be so aggressive in the future.”

“Your brand of aggression is good.” He said with an approving nod. “As long as you don’t try and kill me, I can handle a cut or two. However,” his tone shifted more serious, “burns have more complications. They’re harder to clean and care for. They can become permanent fixtures.” She didn’t have to think too hard to know he was speaking from personal experience. “I won’t burn you again, or, at least, I’ll try very hard not to.”

“Accidents happen.” She didn’t spend her life in the Southern Water Tribe becoming a waterbending master without having a few training accidents, thankfully nothing too severe.

“They do.” He looked down at the ground in a moment of contemplation, but quickly rebounded and reset his face. Not for the first time, she wondered if what he was saying had a double meaning. “Shall we get started?”

“Of course.”

She was determined not to lose this time, but he was just as relentless as before. She’d gotten used to the high and low kicks intended to destabilize her stance, the straight punches and uppercuts. The one weakness that firebending had was its linearity and its heavy reliance on offense. 

Growing tired of his attacks missing or being dodged, he took a deep breath and summoned the equivalent of a firestorm and threw it her way. She used the abundance of water to her advantage, pooling it around her feet to create a platform beneath herself. Instead the spewing fire hitting her, his attack hit the newly formed ice platform, which she deftly melted to surf toward him.

Getting in close was something that she was never very good at. She wasn’t physically strong enough to take him down or seriously hurt him, and he was probably good enough that any attempt at kicking or punching him would backfire. Thinking back to their earlier conversation about benders learning from one another, she decided to give an old trick a try. She skittered off her wave, let the water splash him enough to fool him into thinking that was her strategy. She got onto the tips of her toes, barely putting weight on the flat of her foot, and lightly circled her way around behind him before he could even tell what happened.

It was a move she’d seen Aang use a million times. It was an airbender technique, but he’d never know the difference.

Now that she was behind him, she quickly grabbed his long hair before he could turn around and properly attack. With a tug, she brought his head backward to destabilize him before gathering enough water out of the air to coat her fingertips. She formed the water into razor-sharp ice, putting her hand to his neck like a sabercat’s paw. He tried to twist in her grip, but she pressed the ice further onto his neck in the right spot to illustrate her point.

She couldn’t see his face to judge if he was surprised or not, but he stayed tensed in her restraint for a long time. “Do you always go for the throat?” He grumbled after a while, not daring to move his head to face her as he said it, and she finally pulled away.

“When it’s convenient.” She flicked the ice off of her fingers onto the dirt. She hadn’t noticed it before, too caught up in the fight, but the guards surrounding the training yard relaxed their arms.

He gave her a wary look at rubbed his neck. “Thank you for the match. It was more than enlightening.”

She wasn’t sure how to properly respond to that, so she bowed instead. “It was an honor.” 

“You’re not even exerted?” He gave her a quick look, and she realized she wasn’t sweating.

“It’s a lot easier to fight when I’m not wilting under the sun.” She decided to blame it on that rather than tell him the fight wasn’t that strenuous; it might damage his precious ego.

“It’s not a proper spar if you don’t gain anything from it.” He stopped rubbing his neck and twisted it to the side to crack it. “Would you like to go another round?”

He didn’t look like he was overly exerted himself; the match had ended fairly quickly. “Sure.” She wasn’t in much of a position to say no, anyway.

He nodded. They took a moment to stretch again; her going through a few yoga poses that she’d picked up, and him through a few of his own. Before they faced each other again he discarded the shirt that she had soaked, revealing a toned torso sheened with sweat and the rainwater she had used. She decided immediately to ignore it, which was made easier to do as he exhaled a little flame out of his mouth before getting into position and striking at her again. 

They keep at it well into the evening; when the sunlight dimmed low enough, he pulls out a pair of swords and uses those to help direct his attacks. They both teach the other the basics of their techniques; she tells him waterbending is all about redirection, adaptability, and fluidity between offense and defense, and he tells her firebending is about power, strength, and relies on the breath. The moonlight strengthens her when it rises, but the intensity of his fighting style eventually exhausts her. They break after the moon begins to rise a little higher, both thoroughly extinguished from hours of fighting. For the first time since the rains started, she takes an evening bath and was out like a light as soon as her head hit the sleeping bag, not even needing the sound of rain to help her sleep.

* * *

His evening fighting with the waterbender hadn’t done anything to clear his mind of her. He thought that seeing her in action again, observing how deadly she could be and how ruthless her fighting style was, would get his mind off of the boyish thoughts he was having. Instead, it made him realize how insightful she was, a true master of her element. She was cunning, strong, and fearless; she pushed him to be sharper, more alert, and to think out of the box when he fought her. In short, his plan hadn’t worked.

The only other logical reasoning as to why she remained in the forefront of his mind was something easily fixable. It was something that he hadn’t even realized that had happened, with life getting in the way. Since his promotion to general two and a half years ago, he’d simply been too busy to bed a girl. It was embarrassing to admit that a simple touch could have stirred such a reaction, but it had. Nevertheless, it was an easy solution; he had plenty of money and military camps had whores. It was something he’d done before, only when he needed to.

That was how he found himself the evening after his spar with the waterbender, on top of some whore whose name he had already forgotten, her exaggerated gasps and moans filling his ear as he pumped into her.

It was helping, but it wasn’t working. When he’d raked his fingers through her silken black hair, he thought about how different it was from Kya’s deep brown waves. Her porcelain skin and plain brown eyes looked wrong; not unattractive, but wrong. He wanted those pretty blue eyes looking up at him, not brown. He wanted her smooth, chestnut skin against his own. The whore was scratching the itch, but it wasn’t getting rid of the source of the problem. If anything, scratching the itch was only inflaming it.

He entertained himself long enough to not end it embarrassingly early, both for his reputation and for the girl’s sake, before he pulled out and finished it. Bastards were something he had been keen to avoid in his stint with whores, and he wasn’t going to make exceptions now. Bastards during war were even worse; if his father heard word of it the girl and the child would be executed on the spot, even if it was only a rumor.

He didn’t bother laying next to her and snuggling up with her; he didn’t want to. Once he got off, he sat at the edge of the bed and ran his hand through his hair. He should have never taken that waterbender in; she was far more trouble than she was worth, no matter how useful she was proving to be.

“Who’s Kya?” The girl asked, still wrapped up in the bedsheets. He froze on the spot; he had said some of those thoughts out loud. He had never, in his memory, said another woman’s name in bed before. 

“I apologize,” he kept his back turned to her, “That was…dishonorable of me.”

“It’s no problem, your Highness.” The girl sounded honest in her sentiment. He felt her stir behind him, rustling the bedsheets and the mattress before continuing. “Plenty of men around here miss girls from back home. If you tell me what she’s like, I can be more like her.”

“No.” He said quickly. He certainly couldn’t tell her that he had no idea what Kya was like, or what she liked, or even what she looked like other than her face. Beyond frustrated with himself, he got off of the bed and grabbed his washbowl, tossing a cotton washcloth in it.

“Here.” He handed it back to the girl. “Clean yourself off.”

“Thank you, your Highness.” She gingerly took it out of his hand. “Does his Highness require anything else this evening?”

“No.” Fearing he was too curt, he forced himself to try and be polite. “Your services were more than adequate. Your money is on the table.” He pointed to the very one before finding his nightclothes and redressing. Before she left, he grabbed her arm and gave her a warning. "There's extra in there for discretion." She nodded, picked up the money, and walked out the door. After she’d left, he went to bed angry.

Sleep was fitful. He usually never had trouble sleeping afterward, but when he was so obviously faced with his own faults and shortcomings before bed then it was inevitable. Attempting to meditate to help him sleep after he’d said the wrong woman’s name in bed was useless. She was his soldier, a man under his command; it was immoral and wrong to be thinking about her in that manner. Besides, after her unsavory introduction to military men in the Fire Nation, that was probably the last thing she wanted.

His dreams reflected the tempest going on in his mind. He dreamed that he was back home, playing with Druk in the gardens. It wasn’t an ordinary dream of him as a child; that week, that day in particular, will always be seared into his mind. He had spent the entire week in his bedroom, recovering from the burn over his eye. His pet was there to comfort him the entire time, refusing to leave his side; that was of course when the little dragon was small enough to fit in his room, being about as long as he was tall. Something in Druk changed after that, he stopped being so bratty and started being a companion. He was the only one that stuck with him for those first few days, all the others coming and going as they moved on to more pressing matters.

Druk never let his father get into the room. He hadn’t been present for the Agni Kai, but somehow, the little dragon just knew what happened. The one time his father came to visit, the dragon swarmed him at the doorway, scratching and biting until his father left in an angry huff. That was the last time he saw his father, even if he hadn’t really seen him, just a few days after the Agni Kai.

On the day in question he still wore an eyepatch, and he was still too ashamed to leave his chambers for long. But the dragon was getting antsy, he needed to flex his wings and go outside. The dragon was two years old, and he was a few months away from turning fourteen. They were both too young.

He didn’t ask for an escort out to the gardens, he didn’t think he needed one. He sat by the pond and watched as the little dragon twisted through the air, flying between the trees and rooftops. The dragon would blow smoke at him as he passed, and he would do the same. The turtleducks were still frightened of him and hid between the reeds, but he taught Druk long ago not to hurt them. He watched the clouds make different shapes as they passed over the sun, and he let its peaceful rays warm the unmarred skin on his face as he laid down in the soft spring grass.

“Zuko, my love, you have to come with me.” His mother had come to visit him, her voice hazy and distorted in his dream. She seemed worried; he was out of bed, he should be resting, but he was having fun. He liked being out of his room, the fresh air was making him feel better. His mother insisted and whisked him away, back into the little chamber, and the dragon followed at his heel.

“Do not let anyone open the door.” She shooed him in, insisting that he drink some water and rest. She was more persistent than some of the nurses were. “Always remember this, Zuko.” He quickly fell into bed and she tucked him in; the little excursion thoroughly exhausting him. “Everything I’ve done, I’ve done to protect you. I love you so much.”

Watery-eyed, she kissed him on the forehead and left the room, pulling the hood of her coat over her head. He let himself succumb to sleep. That was the last time he saw his mother.

He slept through the attempted coup. His mother locked the door behind herself after she left, making sure no one could get in. He later found out that Ozai had instructed her to poison him, to get rid of the loose end in his regime. Instead, she gave him a strong sedative to help him sleep. She had warned uncle just in time, and not a moment too soon. Two lives were spared, his and his uncle’s, because of his mother.

His dream twisted into a nightmare; the image of his mother in the center of his vision stepping onto a burning pyre. He knew Ozai did not look favorably on treachery. His mother screamed as she burned; she writhed in pain as her wrists were bound to a wooden stake as she burned alive. The fire flashed from a nauseating red to an icy blue as his father and his sister cackled at her demise. The skin melted off her hands and face like wax, her hair burned away right up to her scalp like the wick of a candle.

He woke up with a gasp, covered in sweat. He focused his mind on the clang of metal, the sound of boots on the ground, men shouting in the distance; the dream wasn’t real, he was back in his camp.

He took a moment to catch his breath, rubbing his eyes to wake himself up. It was a nightmare he'd had a dozen times before, usually when he was frustrated about something. He still wondered what happened to his mother after Ozai’s coup failed, or at least, was only partially successful. His father took Azula and his mother with him, along with a good portion of the nobility and the military, but had failed to kill Iroh and himself. He spent an entire day locked in his room while the coup raged through the palace. No one bothered to look for him until after it ended. He had never been so hungry and thirsty in his entire life than the day when he she locked him in his room. He had been utterly devastated; he didn’t understand why his mother would do something like that, unaware of what had really happened. He had never felt so worthless and abandoned, until he realized that she did it to save his life. If Ozai had found him still alive and breathing, his throat would have been slit. If he’d made any noise, made his presence known until things were safe, he would have been murdered. 

Fifteen years later, they were still at war. Not only that, but the thing plaguing his mind the most at present was a stupid girl. Father was right; he was an idiot.


	6. Taisho 16, Year of the Tigerdillo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! Not really. I took a lot of Asian inspiration in this chapter when it came to New Year’s celebrations; it sort of ended up becoming a jumble of different East Asian traditions with a few that I made up myself. I’m not going to explain everything in detail, just the title. In Japan, they traditionally number their years based on how long the Emperor has been ruling. Therefore, this is year 16 in the era that Iroh rules. Each Emperor gets a name for their era; I stole Taisho from the Japanese era ruled by an Emperor of the same name. It means “Great Justice” in Japanese, so you can see why I wanted to associate that meaning with what’s going in in my cannon. I’m sure you’re also familiar with Chinese zodiac stuff and that each Chinese year is associated with one of twelve different animals, which is what I was going for here with the Tigerdillo.
> 
> Enough with the history and culture; let’s get back to the fun stuff!

* * *

There are many overlooked figures in history who were not born first in their line, were born at the wrong time, or did not marry someone famous. There are many who lived during war who are too young to fight or were without enough political power to make a noticeable difference. There are millions of nameless achievements in history, but one occurring on the new year of Taisho 16 was only recently discovered by historians studying the writings of Fire Prince Zuko during his time as general of an army.

-an excerpt from History of Taisho: The Reigns of Iroh and Ozai

* * *

Katara never had the chance to see a proper city in the Fire Nation before, or, really, anywhere. She’d seen the little hamlets of the Earth Kingdom but she’d never been to a big city like Gaoling, Omashu, or Ba Sing Se. Although she could have blended in more anonymously in the larger cities, most of the eastern Earth Kingdom was in the midst of an uprising during her travels. The other travelers avoided those places like the plague, and so did she.

Houkai was lively and bustling for a town not far from the war. The holiday excitement brought out the best in everyone; people hung red and gold lanterns along their laundry lines, the markets were packed with traditional trinkets that people gave to one another as gifts of good fortune for the new year, even the stray owlcats leering at each other in alleyways seemed to be getting along with one another. 

If it weren’t for the girls, she would have gotten lost immediately. They held her hand, leading her around and buying the things they needed for the new year celebration. The girls explained the common themes: that red envelopes everywhere were sent from elders to unmarried children (so they would be receiving them, not giving them), the diamond-shaped patch with a red character on it she saw everywhere were signs of arriving blessings for the new year, the plum blossom bouquet someone gifted her on the street symbolized luckiness (and that probably meant that the person who gave it to her was hitting on her). Each of the women bought little boxes of candy and dried fruits to send home to their families, the items inside symbolizing something different from luckiness to good fortune to peace. Miki blushed when an old woman tried to peddle her into buying roasted cucamelon seeds because they symbolized fertility. Red was a common theme she already picked up on, but Fire Nation citizens ramped it up even further for the new year. The girls told her it was a symbol of good fortune, believing that red banished away evil spirits. There were also hundreds of sculptures, ranging in make from simple wooden carvings to glass to porcelain, of tigerdillos to ring in the new year. There were so many do’s and don’ts and hidden meanings that she just listened and let them drag her around the glistening city. When they pulled her through the square in the center of the markets, she couldn’t help rolling her eyes.

“Pretentious, isn’t he?” She sneered to herself, looking up at the statue of the Fire Prince in the center of town. It wasn’t overly gaudy, but it wasn’t plain either. His large brass hand was outstretched, cupping a flame as if to light the way forward.

“He didn’t commission it, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Yun said, quickly tugging her past it, “They constructed it after he won the city back.”

“Oh.” Maybe she shouldn’t have been so quick to judge. Either way, having a giant statue of yourself on an island you conquered didn’t seem like a very humble thing to be able to say.

All three bought new dresses for themselves for the celebration back at camp. They told her buying new clothes for the new year symbolized rebirth and renewed the spirit for the next year. They made her buy something too, picking out a plain red sarong. It showed much more skin than she was used to but her friends insisted, despite her protests that she would have to take off her bindings to wear it properly. None of them had ever heard of bindings before, so her protests fell on mute ears. They also told her that new hairstyles and accessories meant the same, so when they got back to camp they pulled her hair in a little topknot with two long strands that fell down her shoulders, accenting it with a little red flame ornament that On Jin usually wore. They asked her to do the same for them, so she showed them how to braid their hair and how to tie it in loops like her people usually wore. She didn’t do anything overly traditional for them, but swapping clothes, jewelry, and doing each other’s hair was exactly the kind of girl’s day she didn’t know she needed. It had been a long time since she’d cut loose with three girls and purchased something for herself that wasn’t necessary for basic survival.

The festival held at the camp was fun, the four arriving as the sun began to fall. They taught her about the traditional dances, which she wasn’t very good at. They threw delicious festival food at her until she felt like she was about to burst. Yun pranked her into eating some super spicy fried thing, and they all laughed while she coughed and choked on it for a few minutes. She got back at them by freezing their drinks in their cups. It was a nice night, until the sun began to set.

The clinking ice in someone’s drink is what got to her, the way it crackled when liquor poured over it. Most people were drinking rice wine straight from the bottle, but firewhiskey was served over large chunks of ice bobbing around in the glass. She stared at those little pieces of ice for minutes before quietly excusing herself from her friends. She promised to catch up with them later, but she knew it was a lie. She didn’t want to ruin their fun.

It was dark when she finally reached the dirt training yard on the other side of camp. She didn’t bother changing into something more practical; she didn’t really care. What she needed right now was to cut something in half. She pulled out the water from one of the barrels along the fence and did just that, neatly slicing a straw dummy into four pieces.

It was two years ago today when the South had their final major defeat in the war. It was the New Year to the Fire Nation, but to her people it was the Summer Solstice. When the two tribes were still whole, Southerners would travel north to celebrate their Winter Solstice. It was one of the few times during the year that the sister tribes would come together and celebrate their unity by worshipping the spirits that created the Northern Lights. The largest difference between the festival here and back home was that the Fire Nation had a military truce for the holiday. The North gave them no time to celebrate; there was no unity or peace on that day. Their ships crashed into their harbor, their waterbenders cracking through the thinned summer ice. The sickening sound of fracturing icebergs was what roused her that day and was what started the fighting. That was the day her mother died. They took her mother from her that day, a civilian, on a day that was supposed to be a holiday. It all felt like a lifetime ago now, after spending the past year and a half from home and the past two months in this Fire Nation military camp. What was she even doing here, really? She felt like she was wasting her life and desecrating her mother’s memory, living in the Fire Nation of all places. She shouldn’t be here, but what could she do? It’s not like she could just go back home or go on a crusade in the North. She had to keep quiet and keep far away; it was what was best for everyone, even if it felt like she left her mother’s body out in the hot sun to rot.

“You know, you have the night off.” A voice startled her out of her concentration. She jumped slightly before turning around. For the second time, she was being scolded by the Prince of the Fire Nation for sneaking out at night to practice. “Go get drunk,” he told her flatly, crossing his arms, “It’s a holiday.”

“The nights when everyone is getting drunk are always the nights when something happens,” she responded, resuming her stance in front of the wooden dummy.

“That’s for me to worry about, not you.”

She continued to walk through the motions of a form without the water. “Is that why you’re here bothering me instead of getting drunk like everyone else is?”

“Someone has to take watch.”

For someone so cold, giving his troops a break while he took night watch was a nice thing to do for them on a holiday. He seemed like a very strict, by-the-books kind of man; even on a holiday, when there was a temporary truce, he wouldn’t let himself cut loose or let his camp fall into disarray. 

“I’ll relieve you.” She informed him, dropping her stance and walking over to the edge of the ring. It was what a good soldier would do. She was planning on heading in soon to try and get some rest, but even after a few hours of watch she’d still be in better shape than most people would be tomorrow.

“Do you even know the route to walk?” He didn’t seem very thankful for her offer, keeping his arms crossed.

“It can’t be that hard to figure out.” They were already on the outskirts of camp, all she had to do was follow the rough perimeter until the moon began to fall and that was it. Easy.

Except it never was. Just as she had hopped over the fence of the training yards a boy came stumbling out of the brush on the opposite side, snapping twigs on his cockeyed path to the dirt road that surrounded the camp. He swayed to steady himself, likely resulting from all the alcohol flowing around. The direction he came from was nowhere near the center of camp; some people probably snuck out this way for some quiet, even if he looked a little young for that, but the boy took one look at the two of them and immediately came running over.

She realized quickly that he wasn’t drunk, he was limping. He probably had a sprained ankle or a pulled tendon, and he was covered in dirt and leaves. She gave the general next to her a look, but he looked just as confused as she was.

“Hey!” The boy squeaked out; judging by the high pitch of his voice, he was far too young to be wearing that bedraggled armor. “Hey! Can you help me?”

“We can help if you tell us what you’re doing in this camp.” The general next to her told him in his usual, serious tone.

“I’m looking for Prince Zuko,” he staggered towards them, “it’s important.”

“Why would a dirty boy from the woods need an audience with Prince Zuko?” He answered.

“I’m Sugawara Tom-Tom, Mai’s brother. I need to talk to him.”

If that was the Mai she’d heard of before, the one currently fighting for the other side, then this was going to be a very long night. Judging by how quickly he reacted, the general had the same thought.

“Get Colonel Li.” He told her quickly, rushing over to give the boy a shoulder to lean on so that he didn’t have to continue limping. “Tell him to lock down the camp; no one leaves or enters. Get everyone back to their tents. Shut the whole thing down; Azula’s close. I’ll bring him in.”

She gave him a nod and sprinted back into camp. The training grounds were far from the center, but it wasn’t long before she found herself back in the heart. She silently thanks the past two months of PT for whipping her back into shape well enough that she can run that far that quickly without getting winded. Everyone was off duty, so the little dirt roads and circular grounds were clogged with throngs of partiers trying to enjoy their only day off. She had to duck and weave past people slipping into their tents or swaying as they drank. She had no idea where to begin looking, but the bar was a good place to start.

There were several main tables set up near the center, and nearly all the seats were occupied. Every table was filled with bottles and food, people were singing along to the music that was being played in the corner. Thankfully, she didn’t have to search any further. The higher-ups were all drinking together, with arms wrapped around bottles and women. She finally found the man she was looking for, jaunting over to his side where he was sitting on the bench between two young women in low-cut red kimonos, white painted faces, and bright red lipstick.

“Kya!” The middle-aged colonel sloshed his cup in her direction once she caught his attention. “Hope you’re having an excellent New Year. Do you think you could show the girls and I a few waterbending tricks?”

“Oh, I’d love that!” The one to his left cooed, throwing her big doe eyes at her. The one on his right stayed silent, giving her an odd look, but the first one continued with her praise. “I’ve never seen a waterbender before!”

“Colonel.” She quickly bowed to get to the point, trying to be polite despite being addressed like a show-pony. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but you’re needed immediately by the General.”

“You can’t be serious.” He was still mostly sober judging by the way he kept his words from slurring, but he was clearly upset about having to leave his position.

“You don’t really have to leave, do you?” The girl that had given her a look ran a long, manicured fingernail lightly along his jawline and pouted her lower lip.

“The princess is close,” she said quickly, trying to retain his attention, “We have one of her soldiers. He wants everything shut down and on alert.”

That seemed to fully sober him up, and despite the girls high-pitched whiny protests and clawing fingers against his tunic to try and keep him where he sat, he got up out of his seat. “Understood. Get back up there while I deal with this.”

She nodded, managing to get out just before the crowd groaning and complaining in protest, the music grinding to an unmelodic halt, and the sound of fires being angrily snuffed out.

* * *

“Ok, let’s set you down.” Zuko got the boy back to his tent, pushing aside the entrance and allowing him to sit in his desk chair. The boy hobbled over to it and ungainly flopped on the cushion

“You can put your foot on the desk.” He told him, grabbing one of the other chairs for himself and pulling it over towards where the boy was sitting.

Tom-Tom gave him an unsure look and didn’t move. “I don’t want to be disrespectful.”

“It’s fine.” He shook his head, rubbing his eyes. “You need to put it up.”

The boy awkwardly shifted his weight, putting a muddy boot on his nice, clean wooden desk. “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you at first, Prince Zuko.” He gave the best bow he could in his position, going as low as he could while sitting in a chair.

“No need to apologize.” He laced his hands together. “The last time I saw you, you were still in your mother’s belly. I wouldn't have recognized you, either.”

The boy gave a shy smile before looking at his hands. If that statement didn’t make him feel old, he didn’t know what would. The last time he’d seen Mai, they were still just kids. He almost wanted to ask about her but was thankfully interrupted by Kya finally came back in, followed by the physician. “I brought him to look at his ankle.” She explained, pointing her thumb toward the doctor.

“Good.” He turned around to tell her. “Both of you stay outside; I’ll call on you when the time comes.”

He turned back to the boy, hearing the flap of the tent open and close. “Tom-Tom, I’m going to need to ask you a few questions about what you’re doing here.”

“I ran away.” He mumbled, curling up in the seat while keeping his hurt ankle outstretched. “Princess Azula…she did something really bad. I guess I’m just too young. I didn’t want to watch.”

“What did my sister do?”

“Well…” The boy played with the hem of his ruined shirt and kept his eyes toward the ground. “She found the nest of a green dragon, not far from here.”

He was well aware of where it was; Druk liked to go play with the green dragon on the island. He suspected they might be doing more than playing if the dragon was female, but he wasn’t going to run into its nest and find out for himself. Druk might be a little young for that, but he was right around the age where young bull dragons become upstarts. “What happened?”

“She killed it.”

He felt his stomach twist. His own sister, his family, were dragon slayers. It was disgusting. And right before the new year; it was a desecration to tradition and their ancestry.

“Can you explain to me why she did that?” He tried to keep himself visibly calm so that he didn’t scare him any further.

“I don’t know. It was really scary. She wanted all of us to see…she said being a dragon slayer made her the greatest firebender.”

He knew she would never have the patience to tame a dragon for herself, she utterly failed in doing so before. It wasn’t enough that she mastered firebending at age eleven and lightningbending at age thirteen; this was her latest way of proving herself even more powerful. She wanted a title without earning it the proper way, with patience and mutual respect. Perhaps she even meant it as a twisted metaphor to make a resounding cry to her cause: if she could slay the green dragon, then she could slay the Dragons of the East and West. “Is that why you came here? You were scared?”

“Yes.” The boy started to sniffle, his lower lip quivering. “It was two days ago and I was really scared and I didn’t know what to do.”

“You’ll be safe here.” He assured him. “You can stay away from Princess Azula here.”

“But I’m a coward.” He started to break down and cry. “I’m a deserter. I’ve brought dishonor on my family and now they’re gonna get in trouble.”

The poor boy was probably right knowing how ruthless his family was, but he tried to be reassuring. “You’re not a coward for being afraid of someone who kills dragons, and your family will be ok. Your sister, Mai, she’s still close with the Princess, right?”

“Yea?” He wiped the back of his hand across his face.

“Then she’ll make sure that the Princess doesn’t get your family in trouble. You did the right thing by coming here and telling me. Now, I think we should get your ankle looked at, is that ok?”

“I twisted it falling down a hill.” The boy started crying again, his voice squawking like a bird as he tried to speak. “Are you gonna cut it off?”

He looked over at the muddy boot on his desk and resisted a sigh. “They’re not going to cut your foot off.”

“Ok.” Tom-Tom wiped his face with the back of his hand again. Zuko left him alone, getting up from where he was sitting to walk toward the door of the tent.

“You can go in, now.” He nodded to the physician. His colonel was still nowhere to be seen but judging by the lights slowly flickering out and the lack of music he was rounding the party up. 

“What’s going on?” Kya asked next to him, arms crossed, leaning against the wooden piling supporting the tent.

“He defected because my sister killed a dragon.” He said as he stood adjacent to her. “It scared the poor kid half to death.”

She scrunched her eyebrows together in confusion. “I thought you weren’t supposed to do that?”

“You’re not. That boy is fifteen years old, and they’re making him march around and watch as my sister hunts sacred animals for sport.”

“We had boys fighting at fourteen.” She somberly commented, looking out over the camp as the festivities were wrapped up. “War brings out the worst, and the best, in everybody.”

“What would you know? You had it easy.” His mood was quickly souring now that he wasn’t near the child anymore. “You left. You didn’t fight.”

Instead of receiving her usual ferocity, she looked down at the dirt. The toe of her foot played with a little pebble in the dust. “I did fight,” she quietly admitted, “If I stayed longer than I had, I would have…it would have been bad.” She looked back up at him, her face strikingly determined. “You’re right, I do have it easy. I’m alive and able-bodied. The same can’t be said for the rest us. Excuse me.” She made her way out in a hurry, and he caught her sneakily running a hand across her face after she turned her back to him. 

He let her go. He could have called her back, but there was nothing more she could do for tonight and she was no use to him in hysterics. He hadn’t meant to make her cry, but how was he supposed to know that lost family and friends? She purposefully told him nothing about herself, every little detail she gave him he had to force out of her. The only thing he knew about her past was that she left because of the war and for some reason she didn’t want him knowing she could heal. Why was she being so secretive? Was there a reason for it, or did she just hate him that much?

Well, if she hadn’t before, she certainly hated him now. He had better things to do than to try and win over her affection, anyway. He exhaled and leaned his back against the pillar where she had been standing and waited for his colonel to arrive. Despite the incoming disaster having his sister on this island was, his mind finally slipped back into calculative strategy. He felt like he was getting his old self back and he finally got his mind off the fucking waterbender, even if the outfit she wore to the festival made her tits look nice. The more important pieces of information that he gleaned from this evening were that his sister was close, she killed a dragon, and that her sanity must be slipping if she did something that stupidly insane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did yall forget that I said this was going to be a war story? I almost did. We’re getting into the real shit now, so buckle up for the wild ride.


	7. Preparation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. We hit the 200 kudos mark after last chapter 🤩. I can’t believe how much love this story is getting! Thank you all so much for giving this a read. Thank each and every one of you for your comments and kudos. All the love is making me relieved I spent months planning the plot out instead of just posting it when I thought it was good enough, it makes me feel like the extra labor was well worth it.

* * *

Katara was one of the most outstanding students I’ve ever trained. She took to waterbending like an otterpenguin to an ice floe and quickly excelled to techniques far beyond her years. It’s the mark of an excellent teacher if you can brag about your students besting you, but Katara could best nearly anyone I know; she’s the finest I’ve seen in my seventy-or-so years of life. Not only was she a skilled warrior, she used her bending in ways I’d never even thought of, and I'm considered unconventional for using water from a variety of sources. She may not be hailed as a creative genius like her brother was, but I think she ought to be.

-taken from the personal correspondence of Master Hama

* * *

Zuko almost felt like he’d been drinking the previous night. He probably would not have felt much different after an evening of heavy drinking than did this morning.

The weight of the situation had fully settled on him, and the lack of adrenaline to keep his mind busy made him feel sluggish. He desperately needed sleep, or at least some tea to try and force himself awake, but he couldn’t. He needed to make sure his men were safe, that they weren’t going to be slaughtered in an ambush, and that his young prisoner was safe as well. Everything was a blur of headcounts, trips between the medical tent and his own, and endless meetings to ensure the perimeter of his encampment was secure enough to withstand a surprise attack. Midnight dragged into sunrise, which dragged into midmorning. He finally gave himself a break for breakfast when he was certain that Azula must not have had something immediately planned. Another interview with Tom-Tom, after he’d had his ankle wrapped and his first decent meal in days, confirmed his suspicions: the boy was adamant that he came here on his own to seek protection but emphasized that his absence was probably noted as soon as he’d gone four days ago. Tom-Tom knew Azula was smart enough to put the pieces together about his whereabouts. All he could do was sit back and plan.

His own dragon reappeared around noon, flying down to the patch of grass next to his tent. Immediately, he could tell that his pet knew what had happened. The dragon curled up like a coil, tightly tucking in his wings and putting its head on the ground, only greeting his master with a glance and a blink. He tried consoling him as much as he could, running his hands along the scales on his head and up his horns, but the beast kept his posture.

“I really hope you didn’t have to see it.” He told his pet, continuing to stroke his head. He responded with a little grunt, pressing his head further into his hand. “They weren’t your mate, were they.” It was less of a question and more of an observation. Dragons mated for life; the death of one of the partners devastates the other. If the two were mates he probably would have gone after his sister already instead of coming back here to tell his master he was safe.

“I’m sorry.” He ran his hand along the horn, and the beast let out a long breath from its nose. They must have been close friends; he was taking this to heart. One thing he always wished his dragon had was companionship. He got along well enough with his uncle’s dragon, but he never had a mother or nestmates to bond with. They only had each other growing up and Druk lost one of the only other friends he had.

“General,” a courier drew his attention away, bowing deeply to him when he made eye contact. “Forgive the intrusion; this just arrived by hawk.”

The messenger looked just as confused as he felt when he took the scroll in his hand. The black twine around it was sealed with an unfamiliar symbol, but he could interpret the sender based on the appearance: the wax was lime green, with a four-winged dragon emblem pressed into it. The courier nodded and bowed again, leaving so he could be alone with Druk to read the letter in private. 

It wasn’t atypical for nobles and royals to create their own symbols based on their achievements. Noble houses each had their own, including the royal family, but when the war divided them they had to create unique ones to differentiate between the two factions. His own had always been an ouroboros, a dragon swallowing its tail in red wax. His uncle used the traditional seal of the Fire Lord, a simple dragon head with an open maw, but sealed it with blue wax to represent his own dragon, Ryū. His father, in all his arrogance, used a phoenix in gold wax to symbolize the rebirth of the Fire Nation under his campaign and the glory it would bring the nation. Azula’s had been a lightning bolt surrounded by a ring, sealed with blue wax the same color as her fire; at thirteen she was the youngest person in recorded history to master lightningbending, and that was worthy enough to make it her sigil. This change was extremely sudden and significant. She wanted to be known as Princess Azula, the Dragon Slayer. He would have felt remorse for her if it wasn’t for her immense pride at what she’d done.

Once he’d finished pondering it he cracked the wax, removed the black twine, and read the contents.

_Dearest brother,_

_I understand you have something of mine. Mai is dreadfully worried, and she hopes he has not fallen into ill fortune in your care. It would be unfortunate for me to explain to the Sugawara clan why their only son was harmed by you of all people._

_It seems we both have a problem: I need the boy back, and you have me to contend with me in your stomping ground. I propose we share our toys like mother made us do as children instead of squabbling. If you let me have the Sugawara boy, I’ll let you borrow Piandao of Shu Jing. I didn’t come here for you, which I’m sure the boy has already explained, and I need to shut Mai and her family up._

_I’m bringing two companions. Give me the date and location. It’s been a long time since we’ve had a family reunion; I look forward to you paying me a visit._

_Play nice, Zu-Zu,_

_Azula_

She really must think that he was stupid. No way in hell was Mai that worried about her brother that she could push Azula around into making this deal. Even if Mai’s parents were that worried to make a plea to get Tom-Tom back, Azula wouldn’t care. The Sugawara’s are a powerful clan, but they’d already chosen their side in this war. They were wound around his father’s finger; Azula didn’t need to try and get them to be loyal for their continued support in their father’s campaign. This was a thinly veiled excuse for combat disguised as a meager peace treaty. His sister was setting up a trap and thought that he was dumb enough to stick his foot in the snare.

At least he gleaned a few more things about his sister: that she personally wanted to fight him and she was so emboldened by her actions that she was making an advance on his army. He almost didn’t believe it when Tom-Tom told him that she proclaimed herself the best firebender in history because she slayed a dragon, but perhaps he just didn’t want to believe it. He needed to stop thinking about her as his little sister, the child he used to play games in the garden with who liked to tease him, and more as the general he was fighting against, no matter how hard that was to do.

He rolled up the paper and tapped it against his open palm. He needed a battle plan.

* * *

“A few words of advice.” On Jin said as she walked with her down the path to the meeting room. “Don’t speak unless spoken to. Don’t make any noise at all, actually. Just stand there and listen. They probably won’t say anything to you, anyway.”

“Thanks.” Katara tucked a loose hair that had fallen out of her braid behind her ear. Only officers were invited to the briefing about the incident yesterday, but she was invited based on proxy. She figured she wouldn’t be the one explaining what happened, that wasn’t her job, but at least the general thought she was worthy enough to hear a direct update about the situation. 

“You’ll be fine,” The lieutenant reassured her, “Just stay in the back next to me and do what they tell you to do.”

She nodded, letting her friend open up the flap of the tent for her to enter first. The makeshift meeting hall was actually the mess hall; with this many officers needing to be quickly informed of such a dire situation, it was the only place in the camp large enough to hold an indoor gathering. There were a few murmurs as the other spoke amongst themselves, and the two girls stood in the back and waited.

A few minutes later the general himself strode in followed closely by the colonel, who set out a few maps and pieces of paper onto the head table. His presence became a blanket of pensive silence in the packed room; now more than ever, the black and gold armor combined with the golden crown commanded authority. The Fire Prince easily strode up to the head of the table, standing at perfect attention, and began.

“You may have heard rumors going around camp about the reason for this meeting,” he announced, his voice resounding around the closed room as he scanned the occupants. “I want to set the record straight immediately, so that everyone is up to speed. Sugawara Tom-Tom, son of Sugawara Ukano, deserted my sister’s army and has asked for sanctuary here. My sister has ordered his return to face judgement in exchange for one of their prisoners, the famed swordsman Piandao of Shu Jing.”

The room fell to whispers, most of which she didn’t understand or couldn’t hear. She’s obviously never heard of the swordsman before, but if the other side was willing to hand him over or use him as bait, he must have been very important.

“I also have news from the deserter,” he continued in the same cantor, “Azula killed the green dragon on this island, claiming the title of Dragon Slayer, less than a week ago.”

The quiet murmurs turned into an uproar; even the older men were outraged by the news, just like the general has been the night they’d found out.

“Please.” The general raised a hand, his voice pleading for order rather than demanding it, and quiet fell back onto the room. “My sister is close and wants a transfer of prisoners. She has commanded that both her and I attend the transfer. I expect she will use this opportunity to attack the encampment. If I am away at the prisoner exchange, she can face me one on one, and she likely suspects that we will not be prepared in my absence. I will now open the floor to suggestions and comments.”

“General,” Colonel Li was the first to speak. “How many will attend Azula when you meet?”

“She claims she’s bringing three people, herself included. I would surmise that I could bring three as well.”

“And you suspect that she would hold true to this, saving her forces for an attack on the camp rather than to try and capture you at the exchange?”

“I do. It’s too obvious for her to bring more men to the exchange; she’s craftier than that. She thinks she doesn’t need help to face me and win. She would see dividing and conquering as her best option for total victory. Because I’m confident she’s going to attack the encampment, I want to stay behind and take care of the battle here. I want you, Colonel Li, to go in my stead, if you accept.”

“I do.” The middle-aged man nodded in return. “Should I select the meeting place and the other two members?”

“Not quite.” He said slowly, pondering his options. “I want you to bring the waterbender. It’ll throw my sister for a loop and it’ll give you a better chance of surviving when things go south.”

She felt her heart quicken as the packed room turned to stare at her.

“What is your input on this?” Colonel Li asked her. That was an invitation if she’s ever seen one that it was her turn to speak.

She craned her neck forward, scanning the map laid out on the table, knitting her eyebrows together in concentration. She noted that it was different than the one she had seen before, featuring only the island they were stationed on. There was a red dot where she knew they were stationed, and a green one where the enemy must be.

“I think it’s a smart move. She wouldn’t suspect it, none of you did.” A few chuckles and coughs resounded from the room.

“If I may,” she walked forward, politely nudging past a few people here and there, and pointed to the coastline on the map, “we should agree to meet here. It’s roughly between the two camps, so she won’t suspect we’re playing her into a trap. She’ll think that she can use the ocean to her advantage and try to press us toward it when the fighting starts. She might even think that we expect to press her toward it to try and gain advantage, so she’ll be even more eager to force us that way. Either way, it’ll only make me stronger and give us an escape route.”

“A brilliant suggestion.” The general has been watching her intently as she spoke, but she saw a bit of fire in his eyes now as he praised her plan. “I’ll write to her immediately after he meeting is over and inform her. I won’t let on that I won’t be attending. When the time comes, colonel, tell her that I was whisked away on urgent business at the capital. She won’t be too upset when I don’t show; she already thinks I’m a coward. Kya,” he turned back to her, “I want you in charge of protecting Tom-Tom at the exchange; she’ll likely try to kill him on the spot. You’re going to be the one that’ll end up facing my sister when it comes down to it. She’ll probably bring Sugawara Mai, his brother, along to oversee the transfer. She’s a knife thrower, how do we best combat that?”

“Firebending might be the best option.” The colonel said. “We need the advantage of range. We have Kya, but if she gets separated from the water or if Azula gets her, then our advantage of range will be gone. Commander Hao, do you have someone in mind?”

“I have a few I could recommend.” A plump man with a long white mustache who looked like he had been out of the direct fighting for quite some time piped up. “You could oversee them in the training grounds and select the one who seems the most fit.”

“Once this meeting is finished, I will,” the general said, “Kya, I want you to attend as well. If you’re going to face my sister, you’re going to have to learn how to combat against lightning. You should at least be familiar with it.” She gave him a nod in understanding before he continued. “Now, for the battle plan to protect camp...”

She started to zone out as the men talked about fortifications and battle strategy, almost dozing off when two commanders got in a spat about what company should secure the front of the line and which should be held back in the reserves, but after a few hours the plan was sorted out. Her legs felt sore from standing in one spot for so long and relished the fresh air and natural light when she was finally allowed outside again.

She meandered over to the training yard, eager to stretch her legs and not wanting to rush, not thinking much of it until she arrived. Everything was a flurry of activity as dozens of firebenders went through their different forms in synchronous harmony with one another. Scores of spearmen were in ranks, doing the same. Swordsman were sparring with one another like their lives depended on every strike. It was really happening; they were going to war.

She found the people she was supposed to meet up with along the sidelines. The Fire Prince looked more stressed than he’d ever been, darting back and forth between people and instructing them where to go and what to do.

“There you are.” He paced toward her when she arrived, shooing a few stray people away who still had nagging questions. “I’m not going to practice with you here; there’s too many people. Let’s head out of camp.”

Without anything better to say, she nodded and let him lead the way.

“Lightning’s really dangerous.” He explained as he barely turned his head around, his long strides easily outpacing her. “There’s too high of a chance of someone accidentally get hit.”

She nodded again even though he didn’t see, and continued following him. He led her into a clearing that she hadn’t known was there before. It was a nice, flat, open space with a good view of the sky and without any trees or buildings around to hit unintentionally. She gave him plenty of space, and he began with the lesson.

“Lightning is considered the purest form of firebending.” He explained, turning around to face her. “It takes years to master without having it blow up in your face. It is precise, and deadly. Whatever you do, don’t let yourself get hit in the heart. It’s much better to get hit in the stomach, or the arm." He pointed to both locations on his body with his index finger. "If it stops your heart, there’s nothing the best healers can do to get it restarted.”

He took a few steps back, getting even further away, and demonstrated the technique. He put his index and middle finger together on each hand, making wide arcs around his body. He knelt low as sparks began to trail his fingers, until he finally released it into the evening sky. She immediately understood why Miki had enjoyed watching this; the intense bolt of light nearly blinded her, and the loud crack as it split through the air was akin to the waves of a tsunami battering the shore. It was beautiful to witness; he was beautiful. Watching light sear its way through around his body screamed one word: power. It was unbelievable to her that a human could possess this level of skill, the ability to generate lightning on their fingertips and release it like a storm. As he finished, he put his palms to the ground in a relaxed posture. She had to try and keep her mouth closed, not wanting to rudely gape at him like a child. 

“I’m not going to shoot it directly at you.” He said once he’d composed himself again. She needed to start thinking more seriously; she was here to learn, not to stare. “I’m going to shoot a bolt to your left, my right. Get a feel for the speed and the direction.”

He wound up a second time, the sparks arcing around his body like snakes. His face was wrought with intensity as he focused on his task, the strands of electricity surrounding him lighting up his hardened features. He finally lunged forward without his foot ever leaving the ground, shooting the bolt well above her head to her left. It was already zipping past her into the air before she could even flinch.

“How do you combat that?” She asked almost to herself, turning back around toward him after watching the bolt go by.

“You don’t.” He said plainly, resuming his resting position. “You pray to whatever spirits you believe in and hope she misses.”

“So, you just try and be quick and dodge it? It goes faster than I can blink, how am I supposed to get out of the way of it?”

“I don’t know what to tell you.” He crossed his arms. “The best thing to do is hit the floor, and quick.”

“You can’t shoot fire at it or anything?”

He shook his head. “It won’t do any good.”

She grunted in frustration and tried to think about her options. The whole reason he’d wanted to see her was for her to learn, what exactly? How to fall down quickly and get out of the way? She put a hand to her chin, tapping her finger against her lips to try and ponder what she was going to do when she had to face it for real. There had to be something she wasn’t thinking of. She tried to ask herself what Sokka would do; he always had the most ingenious solutions to problems like this. He would probably say to use a boomerang to knock the enemy out before they could throw lightning around, so that was out. What about Aang? He would say that airbending made him quick enough to leap out of the way of it. Knowing Sokka, he would also probably ask if she could do some magic water trick to it to make it go away. How would a waterbender solve the problem?

“Have you ever tried to redirect it?” She asked. “Like how you can redirect fire around yourself?”

“I’ve never gotten close enough to lightning to try that,” he admitted, “Even when I was leaning how to do this, my master never shot it directly at me because it’s so dangerous. It’s a good thought, but you’re not a lightningbender, so that won’t help you.”

She chewed the inside of her lip, trying to think about what lightning behaved like in nature. When it hit the ground it disappeared, so there had to be a way to get it to stop and dissipate without getting herself killed.

“Have you sailed much?” She rocked backward and forward on her feet to try and help herself work through the solution.

He shook his head. “Not really.”

“Where does lightning go when it hits the water?” she wondered out loud. “It doesn’t electrocute all of the fish in the ocean and tear a chunk out of it, it just… goes away.”

“I’m not really sure what you’re trying to get at.” He gave her a puzzling look, but she looked back down at her feet as she thought it over.

“Where does it go?” she asked. “Does it really go away?”

He took a few tentative steps in her direction. “Do you want to test it out?”

She tapped her finger on her lip a few more times. “Yea, I do. Can we go to one of the bathing ponds and try?”

It turned out she was partially correct: lightning did dissipate when it hits water. There wasn’t a large explosion or a cloud of steam when he hit the surface, but if it hit a ball of water she floated out of the source, the results weren’t as neat. It took them some time, but she eventually figured out that she could dissipate the lightning with an arc water still connected to the source. He still refused to shoot lightning directly at her, but it was enough to go on to make herself feel safe. She could form a thick arc around her body without it touching her, keeping the ends connected to the ocean, and it could protect her.

He eventually exhausted from their endeavors; lightning took a lot out of him to produce, and she was asking a lot from him. He dutifully put up with it, being just as surprised as she was that there was something she could do besides hitting the deck.

“I’m not sure how well it will work in a combat setting,” she admitted, mulling it over as they walked back to the training ground together to go over the final plans with the others. “But its better than nothing.”

“At least you have some kind of safety net,” he agreed, “I’m not sure how quickly you can pull out an arc of water from the ocean, but if you’re far enough away from her you might have a little time.”

“Can I ask,” she decidedly wanted to keep the conversation flowing as they walked, “who is the person we’re exchanging for Tom-Tom?”

“Piandao is legendary.” He perked up, telling her with a smile. “Despite a rough upbringing, he became one of the best swordsman in history. The weapons he forges are the best money can buy, but he got his real fame in the early years of the war. My father tried to recruit him, and he refused. A hundred men were sent to draft him and he cut them all down, single handedly. He got captured a year or so ago; it’ll be good to see him again. He was my swords master when I was younger. Speaking of,” he turned his head toward one of the guards around the ring of the arena as they approached. “Tell someone to fetch me my swords, some oil, and a whetstone.”

“You sharpen your own swords?”

“Don’t act so surprised.” He gave her what might have been a glare, but she could tell by now he wasn’t being serious as she sat down across from him at a wooden bench. “Piandao is a very hands-on teacher. I forged these blades by hand, from metal that I mined myself. He always insisted that treating your weapons like that makes you a better swordsman.”

He took the whetstone from the attendant and put it on the table, dripping a little oil onto it from a bucket before running one of the blades along it. He gently moved the blade back and forth, carefully watching the edge as it ran along the stone. She found herself once again wondering how someone so orderly and meticulous could have gotten such a nasty scar.

“You can ask, you know.” He barely looked up from his work as he read her mind, and she realized she’d been caught staring. “Everyone else does.”

She turned her head away to try and hide an embarrassed blush. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to…I’m sure its personal.”

“Its fine.” He assured her, his plain tone not giving an indication of his mood. “I’m surprised no one’s told you yet.”

“I didn’t ask.”

He took a deep breath and finished with the sword in his hand, setting it down and switching to the other one. “When I was thirteen, before the war, I spoke out of turn at a council meeting. My father claimed that my cousin was killed by Earth Kingdom assassins with very little evidence, and that we should attack and seek retribution. I reminded the council that our trading partners in the Earth Kingdom would never betray us, and that attacking could break the economic ties we’ve held for generations. Since my father was the head of the council, he took the suggestion as a grave insult and challenged me to a firebending duel. I lost, and I lost my honor and my birthright.”

She wasn’t really sure what she was supposed to say to that. “I’m sorry.”

“You deserve to know.” He said, testing the sharpness against his thumb. “Unlike everyone else here, you’re not fighting for the pride of your nation or your family’s honor; you’re here because you owe a debt. You deserve to know who you’re fighting: you’re fighting against a man that killed his nephew, burned and scarred his thirteen-year-old son in public, and attempted a coup on his nation five days later.”

He finally finished his work, setting the whetstone down on the bench and neatly putting both swords into their sheath. “I want to apologize for the comment I made to you the last time we spoke. I know how it feels to lose my family and friends to useless violence. I hope I did not upset you.” He didn’t wait for an answer, quickly giving the sheath back to one of his attendants before getting up and moving on to his next task to prepare for what was coming. “We have a long day tomorrow. I'll inform the others of the plan. Get a good meal and some sleep, if you can.”

She looked up at the position of the sun; it was right around dinnertime. She had two meals left, a dinner and breakfast, before she went back to war. The food tasted bland for once and the walk between the mess tent and her warm sleeping bag seemed longer than usual. She flopped down on top of it, face down, and tried her best to put her mind to rest.

_Dad,_

_I’m going back to war tomorrow. I’m done pretending this is some kind of vacation. It feels odd. I’m nervous and anxious and excited all at once. I haven’t felt like I’ve had a purpose in a very long time and now I do, even if that purpose is this._

_It feels even more odd that I don’t hear the beating of tigersealskin drums, the stench of Gran-Gran cutting open a caribuelk to read the entrails before throwing them into the ceremonial fire, the grinding of mortar and pestles to make war paint. I thought about going through some of our traditions on my own, of trying to convince the cooks to give me a cowpig to butcher or asking one of the girls for some makeup, but it wouldn’t be the same. It might be for the better; I could never read entrails accurately, anyway, and even though Sokka can barely write or draw, by the spirits he always could make his face look like an actual wolf when I never could. Everything is so different here. People sit down and pray silently and alone. They light these little sticks called incense and meditate as they burn. There’s not sense of community in it._

_I have to fight one person tomorrow, a girl that can shoot lightning out of her hands that no one has been able to beat. I have to protect one person tomorrow, a fifteen-year-old boy that is so afraid of the girl he ran away and defected. Everyone is terrified of this girl. Should I be afraid of her, too? I’ve never even met her. You’d probably tell me that I have just as terrifying of a reputation, that a wolf will snarl at danger and never back down, and that if the Fire Prince didn’t think I could do it he wouldn’t have given me that task. He pushes me, Dad, he really does, both my patience and my mind. I think you’d look up to him, or at least find some common ground with him when it comes to strategy and leadership._

_I know that I need to stop rambling and try to rest. Tomorrow might be the biggest fight of my life. I’ve been away from this for so long, and I’ve worked really hard at getting back to the way I used to be; I just hope I’m ready. If I die here, and none of you ever found out what happened to me… I don’t know if I could forgive myself. It’s not that I was ready to explain everything at the time, but maybe things will be peaceful enough that I can someday. Well, I guess I’ll have to follow Sokka’s sage advice when going into battle: Just don’t die!_

_Katara_

She didn’t sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m kinda surprised I’ve never seen anyone in fandom writing about how lightning dissipates in water, particularly saltwater. Not that I’m an expert on Avatar fanfiction, but that’s a very real property of lightning. I can’t take credit for the idea, though; I stole it from JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure. It’s not like jjba is known for realistic fights (in fact, it’s known for the exact opposite if you’ve never heard of it), but that aspect of that one fight is based in reality. I won’t say which part that happens in so it doesn’t spoil the fight for anyone, but I will say that it's my favorite part.
> 
> Speaking of reality, the wax seal thing isn’t culturally accurate for ancient East Asia but having different symbols for clans and royalty is. Wax seals for letters to and from nobility was strictly a European thing, but I like it and I think it’s cool so I’m putting it in my story. Then again, East Asian dragons were associated with water instead of fire, so I guess we have to take some creative liberties and inspirations from European culture.
> 
> -nein


	8. The Wolf and the Dragonslayer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did a rough chapter count since most of the story is laid out now, and I’m going to tentatively say that this will be at least 25 chapters. I'll probably bump that up to 26 to make it a better story, but right now bits and pieces of 25 chapters are written and are in a good, logical order. I still have a while before I need to make the final decision, anyway.

* * *

Princess Azula, daughter of Prince Ozai, granddaughter of Fire Lord Azulon, was born at 11:47 am on June 21st, Daiei 48. She was born during a new moon in the Year of the Dragon. The high position of the sun, the new moon, and being born in the Year of the Dragon suggest a high proficiency for firebending, which she certainly showed. Her Cancer Sun shows she was calm and discrete, and that she felt her emotions very deeply instead of showing them outwardly. Her Lunar Aquarius gives her a proclivity toward being level-headed and observant; she easily thinks outside the box to find an intelligent solution to a problem. Her Mercury in Cancer indicates that, not only was she an excellent leader, she deeply cared about pleasing others and about everyone having a good impression of her; she was quick to pick up on other’s emotions and moods and knew well how to conform to them or manipulate them.

Katara, daughter of Chieftain Hakoda, granddaughter of Nanouk, was born during the height of polar winter. The time and date of birth are unknown, as the people of the Water Tribe do not record these nor do they celebrate birthdays. Being born during polar winter makes her Sun a Capricorn or a Gemini, but without the exact date and time we can’t be sure of much else. We do know that she was born sometime during the Fire Nation’s Year of the Dragon. Oral reports from the elders of the tribe and the midwives present state that Katara was born when the moon was full and that the birth took place during a particularly strong blizzard. Her grandmother states that, “Just as she took her first breath, the wind blew the snow clouds away and revealed a beautiful blue aurora dancing through the sky.” Even if we’ll never know the exact position of the stars and planets, something must have been aligned perfectly to give her such a proficiency for waterbending and diplomacy. 

-from Astrologer Linh Tran’s website Celeb Astro

* * *

The three girls gave her hugs before she left. The Fire Prince gave them a low bow in gratitude for their service, and then they were on their own. Katara had never met the firebender they brought along, some young man about her age that came highly recommended from one of the commanders. He carried a wooden staff on his back and some kind of small, fancy knife strapped to his belt along with his firebending; the colonel only carried a simple hunting knife strapped to his boot. She only brought a waterskin strapped to her waist. They had to meet the enemy at noon, so the three and the prisoner marched out bright and early. The four had to wake up before the sun rose to eat a small meal and march off to the prescribed location. 

Their travel was unaccosted. The trail to the coast was quiet. Katara almost couldn’t believe that there was going to be a battle today, with such a beautiful and quiet morning and a peaceful stroll. She found the silence unnerving; her fingers ghosted over the cap of her waterskin at every snapping stick along their path.

Right at the spot on the beach where they had agreed to meet were three girls dressed in various states of armor. The one in the center had similar black and gold armor to the Prince; her shoulder mantle and skirt were plated with blackened scales to cover the metal and leather underneath and her hair was tied with a golden flame ornament Similar, yet distinct from the Prince; that must be his sister. The girl to her left wore something similar to herself: a simple sleeveless cotton shirt and trousers, but dyed pink. Pink girl held the limp prisoner, his hands and legs bound with twine and his weight resting on her shoulder. She must be like her, requiring flexibility and a large range of movement for her fighting style, so Katara knew she wasn’t a firebender. The other girl kept her hands hidden beneath wide-sleeved black robes. Again, no armor, not a firebender. Those long, loose robes did a good job hiding her figure and posture; if she had to take a guess, she must be the knife thrower.

“Captain Li,” the princess in the center greeted him with open arms. “So good to see you again.”

“It’s Colonel, now.” He politely corrected her, and the trio stopped in the sand a few meters away from the princess. “And the same to you, Princess Azula. You look well.”

The corner of her cherry red mouth twitched as she returned her posture to a perfect parade rest; she couldn’t tell if it was in annoyance or anger. “I was hoping I could say the same to my brother this afternoon.”

“Unfortunately, Prince Zuko was called back to the capital on urgent business. You must forgive his rudeness.” The colonel easily let the lie they had formulated slip off his tongue. “He would have enjoyed nothing more than meeting with you personally.”

“Oh, I’m sure of that.” Her voice was like a deadly purr, and her mouth curved into a slight smirk. “I hope nothing happened to my dear old uncle. He’s getting up there in years, you know.”

“I’m happy to report that Fire Lord Iroh is in good health, princess.” 

She noted the slight twinge in the girl’s face as the colonel annunciated ‘Fire Lord’ harder than the rest. The princess pursed her lips and stared the man down, her face turning to stone. “Well, isn’t that just peachy? Always good to hear news from home. I hope to return very soon.” She scanned the small crowd, giving everyone a once-over before turning to her companion. “Mai, a thought just occurred to me.”

“Yes, princess?” The girl wearing dark robes with wide sleeves turned her head and asked.

“We’re trading your brother in exchange for a master swordsman. A very powerful, world-renowned master swordsman, wouldn’t you agree?” The princess briefly turned her head to the pink girl on her other side, whose hearty nod in agreement jostled her long braid, before continuing with her argument. “It hardly seems like a fair trade for a fifteen-year-old boy who can barely hold a sword himself.”

She heard Tom-Tom swallow thickly beside her as his breathing picked up in intensity.

Mai and the princess had a stare-off with one another for a few moments, both too stoic to move an eyebrow. Pink girl stood still and waited, shuffling the prisoner’s weight on her shoulder to break the silence. The knife-thrower finally took a step forward and announced to the crowd with a wave of her hand, “The deal’s off.”

“Mai…” The boy next to her quaked in his boots, his voice cracking as he tried to plead with his sister.

“Silence.” The princess hissed as she glared at him; the sudden intense hatred seething from her voice almost making her flinch. “You’re an utter disgrace to my army and to the honor of your nation you filthy coward.”

Katara put her thumb on the cap of the waterskin at her waist.

“For your treachery,” she continued as her feet slowly set into a horse stance, “you will pay the ultimate price.”

* * *

Zuko hated doing nothing as his camp was surely being attacked and men under his command were being hurt, but everyone had agreed that this was the best strategy. He and his pet were currently hiding in the nest of the dragon his sister had killed, a cave in the central mountain on the island. Now that he was here, he couldn't help but wonder how his sister had managed to do it; the cave was high and secluded, too sheer to march an army up. Not only that, but the body was long gone. She must have drawn it out of the cave and butchered it where it was slain; he felt a shiver go down his spine at the thought. The dragon sitting next to him seemed to read his mind, leaning his head into his lap as the two sat and waited together.

He stroked the beard underneath the dragon’s chin, something the beast never particularly liked. When they were all young, his sister liked to pull the dragon’s little beard whenever he did something bad. Druk promptly bit her for it, over and over again, but she never seemed to learn and neither did he. Her and his father’s idea of taming him had been by trying to force obedience on him, and it never worked. Zuko learned early on that punishments, like smacking his nose or pulling his hair, only made the little dragon angrier. He was a feisty little red beast; even if he wasn’t very intimidating, he’d hiss and spit and bite and pretend he was Ran and Shaw. When his father and sister both failed, they tossed the baby away like a stray owlcat. He realized then that a little kindness was what would win his affections, not forced obedience. It was a grueling process, but the little dragon came around to him and only him. 

“He’s mentally challenged.” His sister had teased him when he’d managed to do what she failed at. “That’s why he gets along with you so well.”

“Lucky to be alive to begin with; ungrateful after everything we’ve done for him,” his father sneered whenever the dragon disobeyed.

There isn’t a manual for taming baby dragons; everyone else tames the adults, and there isn’t a correct way to do that, either. Zuko had to figure it out all on his own when he was ten, with help here and there from his mother and uncle. Druk didn’t look so weak and useless now; forty meters of fire, teeth, and armored vermillion scales. He was still nowhere near the size and ferocity of an elder dragon, but he was no longer the hatchling that his sister and father scoffed at when he bit them. He was too large to nibble fingers and fray the hems of robes; he had the bite-force and the jaw size to chomp a man in half. Thankfully for his master, he was tame enough now not to do that when he got upset.

The beast cocked its head to the left and swiveled his ears toward the sound of trebuchet fire in the distance. He picked up on it too; the distant hum of men shouting and dying, the sickening whistle as the flaming balls of coal fired through the air and scored the earth.

“I guess that’s our cue.” Zuko turned back to his pet. The dragon said nothing in response, instead taking a deep inhale and angling its body so he could climb onboard. He stood up before climbing on, fisting the pale golden hair on his mane for support and throwing a leg around his neck.

The dragon may have taken forever to tame, and it had taken even longer to grow big enough to do this with, but flying was something innate between them. He didn’t need to teach Druk how to be ridden like you would a komodo rhino or a mongoose lizard; the first time the beast let him on, they flew synchronously. Just like every other time before the dragon stretched his wings, gave a few cursory flaps, and lept into the sky.

They banked hard around the curve of the hill they were hiding on, taking the updraft to gain altitude and ascend into the puffy clouds. He closed his eyes as they punched a hole through them, letting the wetness dampen his armor and clothes and trying to make his ears pop from the sudden change in altitude. They rode above the cloudline for what felt like hours but in reality it was probably only minutes before the dragon broke through them and began to descend. He felt his stomach plummet as they hurled toward the chaotic scene below. Both armies were clashing, a mesh of tangling swords and fire and shouting in the center of the field. His sister had brought five trebuchets, each firing flaming balls of coal into the battlefield and onto his encampment. Time to fix that.

Once Druk slowed his descent, he banked toward the trebuchets. He gave his dragon a light kick with the back of his heel when they were at the appropriate distance. He could feel the dragon's body expand as he took in enough air, felt him rumble as he turned it into fire inside his belly, and watched as the dragon opened its mouth and rained fire down onto the cannons. They didn’t stand a chance against such a powerful blast of heat; dragonfire can melt even metal. They were disabled with one fly-over.

Once they were gone, the dragon settled down in the middle of the field. The soldiers below scattered like ants as they raced out of his way. Zuko clung on harder to his pet’s mane so he wasn’t thrown or jostled when the dragon’s feet finally touched earth again. A few men tentatively tried to approach the duo, but Druk let out an earthshaking growl to ward them away.

With a wide swath of land cleared around them, Zuko let go of his grip. He swung his leg back around his body and slid down his scaly side, crouching slightly as his steel boots crunched against the grass. He took a deep breath, drew both swords out of their sheath from his back, and ran into the fray to join his countrymen.

* * *

The princess’ firebending was much faster than Zuko’s was. And it was blue.

In an instant, waves of bright blue flames were licking toward their little group. The colonel got in front, redirecting it around them as the fight began, and then everything from there was a blur.

Katara was quickly separated from the others as pink girl and knife girl started their own attacks, leaving her to keep the boy behind herself. The prisoner they were holding fell to the ground, apparently unable to move in the twine manacles. She did exactly what the princess wanted: she kept Tom-Tom behind herself and backed toward the ocean. Azula sauntered toward her, throwing a few cursory fire blasts toward her feet until she felt her ankles touch the tips of the waves as they washed onto the beach.

The princess gave her a playful smirk. “Who are you, his nanny?”

She didn’t give her the delight an answer. She watched as the princess slowly wind up for another attack, the lightning beginning to arc around her fingers. Too impatient to go through with her original plan, she struck.

She pulled the water from behind her, wrapping it around the girl’s leg, and drug her by the ankle into the surf. She heard the princess audibly gasp when went down, and watched as she tried to claw at the sand with well-manicured nails to keep herself from being waterlogged. 

Katara turned to Tom-Tom she’d pulled the princess out far enough into the surf that she’d have to tread water. “I want you to run,” she said in a single breath, “Run down the shoreline the way we came; I’m going for their guy.”

The boy nodded and did what she asked, taking off as fast as he could with the barely patched ankle. If she could just distract everyone for long enough, they could really win the day.

She had a mere second to glance around at the scene as she raced over to the limp prisoner. The colonel blocked a throwing knife with his metal wrist gauntlet, throwing another wave of fire at the knife thrower to try and get her to back off. The other firebender gave a hard smack of his wooden staff at pink girl’s right hand. She promptly cried out in pain and held it in her other hand as she elegantly lept backward to avoid a blast of fire from his kick.

Katara managed to make it over to the famous swordsman, quickly untying his hands and feet. It barely took her any time at all; whoever bound him must have figured his paralysis was enough to ensure he wasn’t going anywhere, so she was able to quickly unknot the loose twine. He still didn’t move after he was freed, but before she could ask him anything another blue fire blast kicked up the sand to her left and forced her to turn her attention away from the prisoner.

At the beginning of the day the princess had been perfectly put together; the picture of a beautiful but deadly noblewoman and general. Now, her limp black hair was spotted with grains of pale sand, loose wet strands that had fallen from her topknot stuck to her face, her eye makeup ran in black streaks down her cheeks, and her crimson lipstick was smeared across her chin. The undone girl narrowed her eyes and scowled, almost as intimidatingly as her bother now that her makeup was messy, and started her aggressive blue offensive once again.

Katara pulled water out of the ocean to put out the flames, getting herself positioned parallel to the shoreline to keep up the defense. Although she considered herself a good warrior, she admittingly wouldn’t have stood a chance if she hadn’t been practicing against other firebenders for months, especially the prince. The princess was much more precise with her flames then they all had been, knowing exactly where to aim to do what she wanted while expending the least amount of energy.

She managed to get behind the Princess, using the same maneuver she’d managed to trick Zuko with. She pulled a large wave out of the ocean, rode it toward her target, and lightly splashed Azula’s front as she swiveled around on her toes. She pulled out the water at her waist to give her a hard blast to the back and shoved her face-first into the ground. With a grunt in pain, the Princess ate sand for the second time that day. Katara might not be very heavy, but she was heavier than the lean princess, and with the added weight and lack of maneuverability of her metal armor she couldn’t get up. She gave a silent prayer in thanks to Sokka as she got the Princess properly pinned on the ground, who annoyingly used to wrestle with her as a child when they were trapped in their igloo during the harsh winter months. Sokka always won, being two years older and always having more weight on her, but now she could see exactly how having extra weight to throw around helped you bring down someone slimmer. She quickly used the twine she had gathered from the prisoner to tie her hands together behind her back, pinning her down with her own weight by leaning onto her back. She was interrupted from her task several times when Azula blasted fire from her feet, hands, or her mouth by turning her head, but she eventually bound her hands well enough that she was satisfied. Figuring the girl could probably burn the bonds off and that it wasn’t going to buy her much time, she called out to her companions that it was time to retreat.

The colonel hoisted the limp prisoner over his shoulder after Katara gave one last blast of water to knock the pink girl out of midair and onto the sand, and with a mean look Mai put her hands up in surrender. The Princess snarled and gave a few aimless fire blasts from her feet as she struggled to untie her hands, but by the time she get herself free Katara had formed a wave into a chunk of ice and had all of her companions get on board to escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The author has heard about how much you all like Druk, and so they have given you a chapter where he is a very good boy and plays an active role in the plot. I honest to God cannot believe how much love this dragon has gotten; I always intended on putting him in the story, but I’m so happy that he’s everyone’s favorite side character. Can everyone say dracarys? 🐲
> 
> For funzies, I went onto Astrocafe and plugged in the date for Azula and made her birth year 2000 (the last Year of the Dragon that passed) and her birth location Singapore (because it’s an Asian city near the equator). That’s the website and chart I used to get those specifics about her astrology, and I have to say the full chart is pretty accurate, ngl. It’s more accurate to her than my own natal chart is to me. Of course, take astro with a pinch of salt, especially since I cherrypicked Azula’s data.
> 
> 11/1/2020 EDIT: The lovely [nurchie](https://www.deviantart.com/nurchie/gallery) made art out of this chapter! Here's the Azula v Katara fight:


	9. Acceptance

* * *

January 2, Taisho 16 was possibly one of the most important days in Fire Nation history. It was also the day that Katara of the Southern Water Tribe cemented her position in the political sphere of the Fire Nation.

-an excerpt from Women of the Fire Nation: Key Figures throughout History and their Achievements

* * *

“You out here meditating, Twinkletoes?” he heard her scoff behind him. “Because if you are, let me know and I’ll leave you alone.”

He sighed, leaning his elbows further onto the stone terrace overlooking the palace gardens illuminated underneath the light of a full moon. “You can stare at the sky without meditating.”

“Well, how would I know?” She trodded on over to him, putting her palms on the stone ledge. “Meditating is for losers like you, and it’s not like I can stare at much of anything.”

He turned toward the earthbender as her milky eyes listlessly looked out at the peaceful scene. “Have you ever wondered what the moon looked like, Toph?”

“Sometimes, but not really,” she shrugged, “I can’t really imagine it or picture it, so there isn’t much of a point in me trying to understand what it looks like.”

He nodded and looked back out at the neatly trimmed hedges and gentle fountains. The two stood in silence for a long time, him looking at the bright moon and the scenery, and her twitching her toes on the stone balcony.

“You thinking about her again?”

He could never hide anything from Toph. “Yea.”

She shifted her weight onto the other foot and crossed her arms. “It’s been, what, a year and a half? Stop torturing yourself by staring at the moon and go to bed.”

“I’ve been thinking lately,” he exhaled, trying to find the exact words, “The monks say that no one is ever really gone. If you remember them, then their memory lives on in your mind. Their spirit gets reincarnated into new life, and the love you felt for that person takes the form of new love.”

“You think she got reincarnated into a fish or something?” she asked wryly.

He chuckled and rubbed his scalp. “I don’t know. Its just nice to think about, that she’s not really gone. That she’s out there, somewhere, you know?”

She shrugged again. “You gotta stop beating yourself up over it. Its in the past, there’s nothing you can do about it now. All you can do is move on with your life, which I’d say you’ve done pretty well. You were a mess when you first came back here.”

He briefly found himself smiling; Toph never gave out compliments. “Thanks. I guess when you think about it…look what happened the past few years, here. I’m not saying things have gotten better since she died, but if I’d spent that time searching for her or wallowing in grief instead of coming here, life would be a lot different.”

She put up a hand to stop him. “You’re getting too metaphysical for me, Twinkletoes. I’m going to bed. We got another long day of sitting in a courtroom with coneheads, again.”

He groaned and slumped his shoulders. “Do you think its ever going to end?”

“Well, it’s gotta end some way, but man I do not get paid enough to do this.”

“You aren’t getting paid anything.”

“False,” she put up a finger, “getting the coneheads out of my hair counts as payment, but I think I’m gonna petition the Earth King for a lifetime supply of liquor after this is over.”

“Have fun with the bureaucratic nightmare that would cause.”

Toph smacked his shoulder as she threw her head back and cackled with laughter. “Fuck you’re right,” she said as she wiped a tear from her eye, “some Joo Dee would show up at my house and tell me that ‘one doesn’t just petition the Earth King’ and tell me that it would take six to eight weeks…” She shook her head, giving him a cockeyed smile. “It’s a good thing they’re going down. This country was such a shitshow.”

“It still is. And you’re right, I should go to bed. These long days are starting to kill me.”

She playfully smacked his arm again. “And you say I don’t give good advice.”

He rolled his eyes because he knew she couldn’t see it, following behind her as they walked back into the palace together from the little terrace. Before he shut the door, he took one last look up at the moon and wondered where Katara was tonight. Was her reincarnation looking up at the same full moon that he was? Wherever she was, or whatever she was, he hoped her spirit had found as much peace as he had.

* * *

“The enemy was cunning,” the young storyteller began, crouching down to emphasize his tale as his voice boomed over the crowd that had accumulated at the training grounds, “but the Prince of Fire saw through their plan. When they attacked our camp, expecting us to be sleeping in our beds, we gave them hell!”

The soldiers roared, almost every single man and woman stationed at camp clanging their shields, swords, armor, anything that would make noise.

“And the great Dragon of the East rained dragon fire down upon the traitors!” The storyteller gave a short pause as the crowd erupted again, standing up to his full height and raising a fist in the air. The Fire Prince in question stood up from his seat at the head table behind the storyteller at the mention of his name.

“The traitorous followers of Ozai will remember how dragon fire tastes and will never forget its heat!” The storyteller shouted again, and the crowd chanted ‘Zuko’ half a hundred times.

“But that is not all,” the storyteller hushed his voice as the noise died down, “After one of their own defected, they wanted him back so they could execute him for his supposed dishonor. There is no dishonor in this man for betraying a Dragon Slayer.” The storyteller motioned over your Tom-Tom, to which the boy stood up from his seat and beamed in return. There was less noise from the crowd for him, but they acknowledged his sacrifice nonetheless with shouts in agreement.

“And when the Wolf faced the Dragon Slayer," the storyteller continued, "when blue fire met the sea, the Dragon Slayer fell!” Another massive uproar ensued, and it was all she could do to stand up without shaking and take the praise. “The Wolf brought the traitorous princess to her knees and brought another hero to fight with us!”

Now it was Katara’s turn to beam like the boy did, to feel her heart swell as hundreds of men chanted ‘Kya!’ again and again. Some cupped their hands around their mouths and tilted their heads upward to howl like wolves do. She glanced around the table, at the other heroes of the day, and her gaze briefly met with the Prince. He rewarded her with a nod; nothing noticeable or out of his station, simply acknowledging her immense success. There had been victories in her own civil war, but none like this. None so monumental that she was labeled a hero, and had her praise sung before hundreds of men. And it felt incredible.

No longer did the men in camp keep their looks downturned when they passed her. Everyone gave her respectful nods as she passed them, accompanied by little smiles or bows. When she was escorted into the center of camp the two men showing her the path made conversation and once again gave their thanks. When she approached the tent, another visitor came out.

“A pleasure to meet you again.” The famed swordsman said as he bowed deeply to her. “Forgive me for not having the time to give you my proper thanks.”

“Of course.” She gave him a shallower one in return to Piandao. “How are you recovering? During the fight, you seemed like you could barely move.”

“Thank you for asking.” He neatly put his hands down at his sides. “It wasn’t anything permanent, just temporary paralysis. It went away with rest, a good meal, and a massage.”

She gave him a genuine smile. “Good to hear.”

“I don’t want to keep you,” he looked toward the tent flap, “but I am indebted to you. If there is anything I can do for you, any favor, please let me know.”

“Thank you,” she bowed again, “I’ll let you know, but don’t worry about me abusing you.”

“Your reputation is much more fearsome than your demeanor.” He said with a slight smile, crinkling the numerous lines around his mouth. “Have a pleasant afternoon, Master Kya.”

“Same to you.” The two smiled again to one another as he walked past. The guards pushed the tent open for her, and she went inside.

The Fire Prince was sitting on a cushion on the floor, the room neatly cleared away for company. A low table sat in between him and her, filled with an array of items including a porcelain teapot and cups with a matching red dragon motif.

“Good afternoon.” He said pleasantly, bowing his head slightly. “Please, have a seat.” He motioned to the cushion opposite of himself on the floor in front of the low table.

She crossed her legs and sat down, finding sitting on the floor this way to be surprisingly comfortable. “Here,” she made a motion for the teapot, but he put up a hand and stopped her.

“Allow me.” He picked it up himself, also grabbing a piece of cloth from the table to wipe the exterior to a fine polish. “In the Fire Nation, we have an extremely particular way of formally serving tea.” As he explained it to her, he continued gently polishing the other utensils within the set. “I personally don’t care about either of us breaking tradition; we’re in the middle of a war, no one has time to have a proper tea ceremony here. However, if you go around saying that you prepared tea for me and you tell everyone that you put leaves into water and poured it in a cup, everyone will be aghast at how rude you were.”

Once he was finished the polishing, he took a long wooden scoop and opened the container of tea leaves. He methodically scooped out a gentle amount and put it into the teapot to steep. “You’re foreign, so I know you don’t know the process, and I figured I’d save you the unintended embarrassment. Besides, you’re technically my guest. It would be rude of me to allow you to embarrass yourself, and rude to let you pour your own cup.”

“Thanks.” She said, folding her hands together on her lap. “I didn’t know tea making could be so complicated.”

“I think it’s ridiculous.” He said blatantly once he’d put the utensil down. “But it’s my culture, and it would be rude of me not to honor you like this.”

“I’m sure there are plenty of things about my culture that are just as ridiculous.”

He gave a thin smile, picking up the teapot and pouring small amounts into both cups, alternating between the two as he did so to ensure an even amount got into both. “We could sit here and talk about it all day. You’ll have to excuse me for serving you tea without a proper tearoom that has some stupid scroll on the wall for us to discuss the meaning of. And neither of us are dressed appropriately or sitting properly, but I’m certainly not going to make either of us sit in an uncomfortable _seiza_ if we don’t have to.”

“You’re forgiven.” She gave him a little smile. He handed her a cup, one hand underneath it and the other on the side. It wasn’t half bad, a little bitter and maybe over-steeped, but she didn’t expect the man sitting in front of her to be any great tea connoisseur with how much he admitted to disdaining the culture surrounding it.

“I wanted to personally congratulate you, and thank you.” He explained, picking up his own cup the same way he’d done with hers. “I’ve faced my sister before and lost many times.”

“It was difficult,” she finally let herself admit, “but I’ve faced worse in life.”

“Good. I also wanted to take this time to speak about something else. Your introduction to my army was less than ideal. I also wanted to take the time to personally apologize for the way my country treated you when you arrived here. I wish I could say that our men are better than that, but I can’t.”

She bit the inside of her cheek and nodded, not wanting to say more.

“I’m sorry to have to bring it up in front of you again,” he continued, “I’m sure it’s the last thing you want to speak about, and it’s extremely rude to talk about over tea, but I feel like I owe you a bit of an explanation. I haven’t been a general for a very long, but I know that men think going to war allows them to behave like uncivilized animals. If I told them not to touch you, then they would have taken you to a quiet corner of camp and done just that. If I showed them that you’re powerful, useful, and if I give you the ok to kill anyone that tries to touch you after you demonstrated that you’re powerful, then they’ll leave you alone. That’s why I recruited you that night.” 

He set down his cup, not intending on refilling it immediately as he continued with his explanation. “I can’t stop all of it, I know that, but I try to make things right when I can. Since you’ve made such a name for yourself, and since the dangerous window of time where someone might retaliate is over, I want to offer you your freedom. I would prefer if you didn’t leave, of course, and I’ll offer you incentives if you stay, but you’ve done my nation a great service when we’ve treated you so poorly. It would be dishonorable of me to continue forcing you to risk your life for me when you never should have in the first place.”

“Oh. Thank you.” She ran her thumb around the rim of the cup he had given her, still warm and partially full of tea, as she contemplated the offer. “Honestly, I don’t really have anywhere else to go. My home as I know it is gone, and I’m good at fighting. I like being a soldier. I like it here; I feel like I’m doing something worthwhile. If I left, I’d probably wander aimlessly around the Earth Kingdom. That’s not much of a life.”

He picked up the teapot again to pour himself another cup. “It’s certainly more peaceful than this.”

“True, but would you be happy like that? With no place to call your home and counting coppers to get by?”

“No.” She could tell he spoke in honest as he paused to drink. “I’m sorry that you don’t have a home; someone with your talents shouldn’t have to worry about where they’re going to find their next meal or about having a roof over their head when it rains. If you stay here, I’ll promote you to lieutenant. You’ll have all the benefits that the rank permits. I also want to give you a more physical token of appreciation. When the war is over, and if we win, I can make some arrangements for you. Men have done far less than you have and were rewarded with a title and some land. If you choose to stay in the Fire Nation, you will live comfortably here.”

“Thank you.” She didn’t really know what else to say. She wasn’t sure what he meant, presumably a house of some kind, but it sounded like it was something really big. “I’ll consider it.”

“You’re a war hero; you deserve it. However,” he leaned a little closer and spoke much more seriously, “I want to offer you this warning. My sister knows your name and face, and she is a very sore loser. She’s going to be even more upset that she was beaten and embarrassed by someone who’s foreign. Every attack pattern you used on her she will have memorized by now and thought of a way around. If I were you, I would do the same. Do not underestimate her because you’ve beaten her once. The next time you face her, should you face her again, she will be that much stronger, and she will come after you.”

She nodded and looked back into her cup. The way he was speaking it sounded like she just signed her death warrant; then again, he was usually one for dramatics.

“I do thoroughly want to thank you.” He reiterated, trying to calm her nerves. “And I doubt we’ll face her again soon; she’s going to need time to lick her wounds and recover. You’ve given her something to prove, now, though, and she’s pissed.”

“Her army was crushed,” she stated simply, “how could she possibly recover from that?”

“She’s never suffered a defeat like this, but she always finds a way. She’ll probably run back to my father in the Eastern Isles, regroup her losses, take over another general’s army, and come back like a bat out of hell. Knowing my father, he’ll tell her to either come home with a victory and reclaim the honor on her name or not come home at all. Going off topic, and just between you and I, I’m waiting on word from the Fire Lord on whether or not we should press this and follow her eastward to try and reconquer the rest of the archipelago, or stay here and keep the island secure now that we’ve driven the enemy out.”

She drank the last dregs of tea in her cup and mulled it over. Tactically, it was a smart move; they’d barely suffered any losses and their enemy was running away with their tail between their legs. If Azula was as crafty as people said, however, they could wander right into a trap. “If we travel by water eastward, I can protect us.”

“That’s what I was hoping to hear.” The corner of his mouth tugged upward into a slight smile. “You can’t protect an entire transport of ships at once, but now that my father knows about you that should deter him from any naval attack. The element of surprise you had is gone, but in this case, that's a good thing. Most of them aren’t that stupid to fight a waterbender with your reputation in their element."

She smiled at that. “Just because I’m in the ocean doesn’t mean I’m invincible, but it certainly helps when you’re fighting firebenders.”

He nodded. “I’ll send word to the Fire Lord after we’re finished that our transport fleet will have your protection.”

* * *

“Three cheers for the newest lieutenant!” Miki raised her cup of rice wine, and the other three girls did the same. It was the first time Katara had drank in this country, and Yun had stashed away a bottle from the New Years festival for an occasion like this. It didn’t taste very good; they served it warm instead of chilled since she had to keep it in her tent. It had been forever since she’d had any kind of alcohol and had something to celebrate, so she couldn’t find it in herself to complain. The three sat huddled in Yun’s tent together where they wouldn’t get caught. With a temporary end to the conflict, no one would miss them and they could give themselves the night off.

“I just want to give you a personal ‘thanks’ for knocking that bitch down a few notches,” Yun said as she refilled her cup.

“I’m a soldier.” She said before downing another glass. “I was told to keep her at bay, and I did.”

“For the love everything under the sun,” On Jin remarked, “you shouldn’t make it sound that easy.”

“Oh, who cares?” Miki gave Katara’s shoulder a nudge. “Fuck Azula. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks. Wow, I haven’t drank in forever.” She looked at her now empty glass and felt the warmth creeping through her face.

Yun inching closer to her in the crammed tent. “Do you have wine in the South Pole?”

“No; there isn’t fruit or grain there to make wine. We have to have it imported.”

“Wow, that’s crazy,” Miki said, “You guys don’t have rice?”

She shook her head. “We don’t have farms. We get everything from the ocean.”

“You don’t grow any food?” On Jin asked, astounded. “No plants at all?”

“Everything’s covered in ice and snow. I didn’t even see grass for the first time until I left.”

“I can’t believe there are people who have never even seen grass.” On Jin said and grabbed for the bottle again. “Well, this one’s to grass, and rice.”

She chuckled and made a grab for the bottle to refill her own. “I’ll bet none of you have ever seen snow, have you?”

“There’s snow at the top of the mountains,” Yun said, “Like the one here.”

“That doesn’t count.” She took another drink. “Everything back home is made of snow. It snows almost every day.”

“It sounds boring,” Miki said quietly into her cup.

“Kind of…but I also miss it. The way the sunlight hits it in the morning and evening is so pretty. And in the winter, there’s the Southern Lights that reflect off of it at night and light up the sky…” She trailed off and laid on her back, trying to remember what it all looked like.

“I miss life in the capital.” On Jin scooted a little closer to her, hugging one of her legs to her chest. “I haven’t been home in years, either.”

“Enough of the sad talk,” Miki chimed in, “what did Prince Zuko have to say when you talked in private?”

She shrugged and sat up enough to take another drink. “He just thanked me again and said after the war was over that I could stay here.”

“What did he say exactly?” On Jin pressed.

“Uh.” She ran her finger around the rim of the lid, trying to find the exact words. “He said he would make some arrangements, and something about land and title. I don’t know what he meant by it, but I was too scared to ask.”

“That means he’s giving you a noble title.” She’d never seen the usually stoic girl so surprised before. “You’d be a daimyo. You’d be the head of a new clan; that’s an incredible honor.”

“I still don’t really get it. I’d have your status?”

“Not exactly. Mine and Miki’s family aren’t related to daimyo, but Yun’s father is.” At the mention of her name, she raised her glass in the air. “You’d probably take over a piece of land that we conquer out eastward and lead it.”

“What do you mean, lead it? In my home no one owns the land, we all harvest it together.”

“You’re in charge of the taxes of that area, the crop production, things like that,” she explained, “Any children you’d have would also be endowed to the land, depending on their order of birth of course. Usually women don’t inherit land like that, but I’m proud he’s being progressive about it.”

“So, I don’t have to grow any crops, just take them from the people and claim them as mine because they were produced on my land?”

“Basically.”

She gave her friend a confused look, still not understanding it. “That’s stupid and doesn’t make any sense.”

“Think of it this way,” her friend tucked a loose strand behind her ear and scooted closer to annunciate her point, “you allow the commoners to use your land and live off it, and in turn they give you some of the food they grow in return and a small fee.”

“But they’re doing all of the work and I’m doing nothing and getting all of the reward!”

“So, wait,” Miki interjected, “if this is so confusing to you, do your nobility not own the land? Does everyone get food for everyone?”

“Yes! That’s a huge part of our culture; hunting and fishing are done by everyone, including the Chief. It’s different in the North; their Chief is strictly a leader and he doesn’t typically leave the city, but in the South everyone does their fair share.”

“That’s ridiculous,” On Jin remarked, “your leadership should have more important things to do than go fishing. They need to lead the people.”

“They do, but hunting and fishing are sacred. It’s considered an honor to go on certain hunts or fishing trips.”

“I have a question.” Yun finally chimed in after drinking through nearly their entire conversation. “Why are we talking about meaningless crap like this when we could be talking about something fun?”

“That is a good question.” Miki nodded her head. “Hey, Kya, what was travelling the world like, after you left?”

“It was a lot of fun.” She put her hand under her head. “I thought the whole world was my little tribe, and that it was all I would ever know. I had a lot of fun in the Earth Kingdom, I ended up liking it more than I thought I would.”

“What did you do there?” Yun asked.

“I travelled around, taking some work here or there. I didn’t stay in one place for too long.”

“Any reason?” she asked again.

“Well… it was different each time. One time I ran into this gang, who I thought were ok at first, but I realized they were trying to get me to do their dirty work.”

“What happened?” Miki asked, intrigued.

“The gang leader was a really sweet-talking guy and I fell for it.”

“Was he cute?” she asked again.

She looked toward the corner of the tent. “…yes.”

“What was his name?”

“Jet. He had this wicked smile, and he was great in bed, but—” She clamped a hand over her mouth when she realized she said it, and the girls around her started cackling at her blunder.

“Kya, wow,” Yun wiped some tears from laughing away from her eyes. “I can’t believe you of all people nearly have your golden lotus tile.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s not, like, a physical token.” She explained, wiping away more tears. “It’s metaphorical. You get one if you sleep with someone from each nation.”

She sat up on her elbows and raised her hackles, suddenly feeling mortified. “Well I haven’t done that!”

“Calm down, it’s not a bad thing,” Miki assured her, “Or, at least, it’s not seen as a bad thing here.”

“You get a platinum lotus if you sleep with a bender from each nation,” Yun added, “Was Jet…?”

“No,” she took another drink and laid back down, “he wasn’t.”

“So, you’ve never been with an earthbender?”

“Not exactly.” The three girls gave her suspicious looks. “Ok, let me explain: I passed through this little Earth Kingdom mining village about a month before I came here, oh what was the name of it, Dongzhou I think. Anyway, this sweet family took me in for a few nights in exchange for some work, and they had a son named Haru about my age. Really sweet guy, an earthbender who worked in the mines. We made out in his barn, but he was too honorable to want to do anything before marriage. So, no, I haven’t slept with an earthbender, unfortunately, but I did make out with one.” She scraped her nail against the cup in her hand and reminisced, staring at the ceiling of the tent. “Haru was a lot nicer than Jet was.”

“Wait,” On Jin suddenly tuned back in, “can you clarify what being ‘too honorable’ means, in this context?”

“Yea,” Miki rolled her eyes, “we’ve all heard that one before.”

“I think he meant that he didn’t want to take advantage of a girl travelling alone. He didn’t want to just leave me high and dry if something…unexpected happened. He made it very clear that he was more than willing, but since I was just travelling through, you know?”

“That’s actually pretty sweet, comparatively.” Miki sat up straighter and grabbed the bottle again. “There are two types of Fire Nation men. There’s the honorable ones, who’ll get into an Agni Kai for the honor of being your escort for the evening or the honor of proposing to you, and honestly, that gets really annoying. Those are the ones you have to kick out of your bedroom, because all they talk about is themselves and their own honor.”

“Alright, what about the second kind?”

Miki blushed, coyly turning her head as she smiled. “The second kind are the hotheads that lose their control as soon as you get ‘em in bed.”

“You know,” Yun interjected, “you say that, but it’s all fun and games until someone blows smoke in your face when they finish.”

“Alright, I’ll indulge your fantasies just this once,” Katara conceited, "is that why you’re so obsessed over Prince Zuko, because he has a temper?”

“There’s more to him than just a temper.” Yun giggled as Miki nudged her. “But I don’t need to tell you that.”

“Yea, you’re the one that’s seen him shirtless,” Miki added playfully, “and soaking wet.”

“Ok, you know what?” She ceded, putting up her hands in a mock surrender. “I’m backing down. I don’t want to hear this anymore.”

Yun started uncontrollably giggling, slapping one hand against her knee while pointing a finger at her with the other. “Your face is so red!”

“I’m drinking!” She countered, pointing to the bottle to exacerbate her point. She covered her eyes with her arm to try and hide her embarrassment and the growing flush in her cheeks. “I hate you all.”

She relented to the teasing, throwing back some of her own when her friends talked about their past crushes and lovers. For a few hours, the four got drunk, forgot about the war, and let themselves be who they were.

* * *

The admiral patiently waited outside the large double doors, his hands neatly clasped behind his back. The two servants on either side gave him a nod and pushed them open for his arrival. He sauntered inward, the clack of his steel boots against the stone floor ringing out in the room. Once he reached the center he bowed deeply, placing his forehead on the tile floor in front of the makeshift Dragon Throne. It was nowhere near as impressive as the one in the capital city, but it looked convincing enough. They would retake the original eventually, anyway.

“What is your purpose here?” The princess asked slowly, sitting on the throne with her spine ramrod straight, the perfect figure of nobility. The blue flames that surrounded her gave her an ethereal aura of power that he had never gotten over. It was rare for her to sitting here instead of the Fire Lord, made even more unlikely after her defeat, but he absolutely had to request an audience with her after he'd heard the circumstances of her return.

“Thank you for meeting with me, Princess Azula.” He sat up and knelt before the throne. “I came to ask you for a favor.”

“I’m not in the business of giving favors, admiral.” She replied sardonically. Spoken like a true courtesan.

“I want to ask for the permission of getting rid of your little problem,” he offered, “I received an intelligence report today that Zuko’s fleet will be sailing eastward. My fleet stands ready to intercept them, at your command.”

“That would be quite a favor.” He heard the slight note of appraisal in her tone. “I’d be very indebted to you. What do you want in return?”

He wanted everything in return but telling her that would get him nowhere with a brilliant strategist like her. “The pleasure of killing the girl that made a mockery of the rightful heir to the throne will be a reward enough.”

The blue flames continued to flicker, casting shadows behind the columns that supported the room as she mulled it over. “Kill the Wolf. Don’t return until you do.”

He bowed once again, putting his forehead to the cold ground, and left just as quietly and respectfully as he’d come. He hid his pride in the presence of royalty, only allowing himself to smirk about it after he began the walk back to his ship to inform his men they were sailing out. He never thought he’d make Admiral in this damned war; it was only after Admiral Bujing had that unfortunate accident did he get a chance at some real power. Ever since, he was determined to make a name for himself. He wasn’t going to come out of this war as Admiral Zhao, the Admiral that took over Bujing’s crumbling fleet after a mutiny. He would be known as Zhao the Conqueror. Zhao the Wolfslayer. Zhao the Invincible. 

He could hear it now; people would sing songs about him, shouting his name when they achieved glory. He could only imagine what the Fire Lord might offer him in return, or, better yet, the young Princess.

He took a quick catalogue of the different sigils of loyal noble clans that were placed around the hallway as he exited. He’d come up with something that had a good ring to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tidbits of Zutara, Toph, Aang AND Zhao? Oh my.
> 
> I really tried to get the cultures and traditions right with this chapter while also making them slightly to the left to fit into the world of Avatar, but as a disclaimer, I’m not East Asian. The one I tried really hard to do my research on was the tea ceremony. I’ve never been to a tea ceremony, I’ve only seen videos of them, but the one performed here is sort of a mix between the Japanese and Korean style. People in several Asian countries (including Japan and Korea) literally go to a special school to study the intricate rules, so I’m sure there’s a few things I missed with both while trying to blend the two together and make it work for the world. The only minor cultural thing I want to point out about it is that porcelain sets with dragon motifs were reserved for royalty in ancient Korea, so that fits with the setting here nicely. I also tried to do the best I could with the “how to explain feudalism to a native” conversation, too. When you try and state it simply like that it sounds pretty bad, doesn’t it?


	10. The Wolfslayer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keen eyes will note that I bumped this up to 27 chapters in total. The reason why is that I keep redoing the ending; every time I feel like I’ve finalized it, I remember one nagging detail and I go “crap, I can’t leave a loose string like that.” The ‘end’ used to be one-ish chapter and now it’s three and an epilogue. So, yea, hopefully this stays at 27 but who can really say at this point. Maybe I’ll rewrite the ending for the tenth time and add another chapter, but I’m still shooting for my ‘under 30’ goal.

* * *

List of Notable Naval Military Leaders during the Taisho Conflict:

Admiral Bujing

Admiral Liang

Admiral Jeong-Jeong

Captain Hito

Captain Kisu

Captain Lu Ten

Captain Nobunaga

Lieutenant Mira

-excerpt from the appendix of History of Taisho: The Reigns of Iroh and Ozai

* * *

Katara’s offer to stay on and protect their transport eastward caught the attention of the Fire Lord, and within a week of her having tea with Prince Zuko the entire camp was ordered to pack up their things. Her and the girls only had tents and a sleeping back to pack up and could therefore wait until the night before, but everything else had to be torn down and loaded into crates and put in the belly of transport ships anchored in Houkai. Everyone had orders to be on the ships one week after the initial order to pack, and most of the soldiers found the short timespan highly presumptuous. If they were going to press the advantage, then that left them a very narrow window of time to do so and therefore packing camp was going to have to be rushed. It would not take Azula long to get her own affairs in order and prepare for this; giving the enemy any extra time could be disastrous. They only narrowly held an advantage over her last time due to a surprise that they no longer had, despite the resounding victory.

Thankfully, the orders kept the multitude of divisions stationed at camp relatively intact. One division was scooped up by an admiral who needed extra forces to push a duel naval offensive and one division was to remain stationed on the island to keep it secure, but the rest of the encampment became the ground offensive on a little eastern island called Izu. Nearly all of the soldiers were born on the main island that housed the capital so most had never heard of it, but Miki said it was a nice place to visit.

“I had a vague relative who was a daimyo there, my uncle-by-marriage’s son-in-law, something like that?” She told the group one night over dinner, which had become much more meager now that the food had to be packed away. The tent that was used to house everyone was gone, with only wooden tables and open cookfires remaining in the bare dirt. “Anyway, there’s not much there besides this really big lake. They told me when I was a child it was cursed, but I think it was just a bedtime story.”

“Has anyone heard why we’re going there?” Yun asked as she picked up a spring roll with her chopsticks from the dish in the center of the table. “If it’s a speck in the middle of nowhere why are risking our lives over it?”

“It’s strategic,” On Jin explained, “It’s close to their capital on Tokara; it’s only a few islands over. If we can secure it then we’ll finally have a strong foothold in the east.”

Katara made a dangerous play at the dinner table, taking a spring roll and dipping it into the spicy red sauce that everyone else used. The tip of the spring roll barely brushed the sauce, but she was proud to find herself being able to eat the food here without burning her tongue. “If it really is just a speck then there shouldn’t be that much resistance when we get there, right?”

“It’s hard to get accurate intelligence reports out that far.” On Jin reminded her as finished off her own dinner. “I’m trying not to be nervous about it, but we’re going deep into enemy territory. There’s no way to know what’s going on out there.”

Katara tried not to let the thought affect her too deeply. She was going to be travelling into Azula’s territory after she’d put a bright red target on her back. She’d fought in two wars, she was no stranger to putting herself in dangerous situations, but the thought loomed over her more and more as the encampment where she’d spend the last three months was torn down.

The last day in camp before marching into Houkai to board arrived all too quickly. She’d kept herself busy that morning by helping others pack and getting the last of the supplies in crates, and she spend the afternoon wandering around camp and offering her help wherever it was needed. She came upon Tom-Tom, who eagerly told her he was going to be returning to the capital.

“Prince Zuko says that I’m too young to fight.” The boy told her after he’d hobbled over to her. “I don’t know how useful I’d be with my ankle, anyway.”

“Do you have family there?” she asked. “Who’s going to be taking care of you?”

“I wrote to Fire Lord Iroh and asked if I could stay in the palace for a while. He said it was ok since I don’t have any family there.” He timidly looked away. “My sister is still with Azula, so’s the rest of my family.”

She put a comforting hand on his shoulder and spoke straight. “Being separated from your family is really hard, but you shouldn’t regret it if you did it for the right reasons. Things will work out in the end, I promise.”

He gave her a little smile and a shrug; in that moment, he looked way too young to be receiving a talk like this. “Thanks Master Kya. For everything.”

She let the boy go and continued her last walk through the camp and stumbled next upon the tent of Piandao, stopping once again to make a light conversation with the pleasant man and to ask where he was off to.

“I’m afraid I won’t be going to Izu with you.” He informed her as he finished dismantling his tent and stowing the parts away. “I’ll be going with Admiral Jeong-Jeong’s fleet instead. It’s a shame I won’t get to fight alongside you, but the admiral is an old friend of mine. It'll be good to see him again.”

“I hope this isn’t the last time we see each other.” She put a hand on her hip. “I still have to cash in that favor.”

He paused from his packing and gave her an oddly earnest look. “It won’t be. Just in case,” he stood up and put a hand on his pocket, fishing out a little wooden chip, “have you ever played Pai Sho before?”

She nodded. “I have, but I’m not very good.”

He flicked the wooden piece through his fingers before extending his hand and offering it to her. “This is my lucky tile. Use it if you get yourself into trouble.”

She took the tile out of his hand, running her thumb along the simple outline of a white lotus and the chips and nicks along the worn edges. People back home had their own good luck charms, it made sense that people would have them here, too. She wasn’t sure how a game piece could be lucky unless it was used to scam people, but she pocketed the tile nonetheless. “Thank you.”

“It was a pleasure serving with you, lieutenant.” He bowed to her once again, and she did the same before leaving him to his business.

* * *

Katara woke before the sunrise to pack up her tent and bedroll, and she followed the rest of her division as they marched into the city. Her two valuable worldly possessions, her mother’s necklace and now the tile, were secure in her shirt pocket. The city was alive once again as soldiers marched through the streets of the city like a parade. Although she wasn’t as easily recognized for her accomplishments by the civilians, the second wave of cheers felt just as special.

She hadn’t been able to explore the port side of the city in her first visit, but when they finally arrived at it all she could do was stare. It was the first time she’d been near the sea in months; the last time was the night she aided the Blue Spirit, but it was dark then and she hadn’t gotten a good view of anything. The afternoon sun baked the white sand and pieces of shell as the waves broke in their familiar rhythmic tandem. The water looked startlingly clear, almost clear enough to drink from if she didn’t know better. And the sand…the sand she’d seen in the Earth Kingdom was tan or brown, but this…

“That’s sand.” Miki nudged her, noticing she was staring.

“It’s so white.” She broke rank just for a minute to walk over to the beach. She knelt and collected a fistful, letting the coarse grains flow out through her fingers. “It looks like snow.” She half expected it to be snow with how clean and white it looked, and she had to run her hand through it again to make sure it was hot and not cold.

Her friend followed her over, kneeling beside her. “You’ve never seen sand before?”

“No, I have, just none like this.” She wiped her hand on her pants to remove the rest of the grains that had stuck to her skin.

“Come on." Miki put a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s get back in formation.” 

She didn’t have much of a choice but to follow. The ships stationed at the harbor were three massive metal behemoths, with sharply pointed bows that she bet could easily ram their way through an iceberg. She guided herself up the railing, one hand on the rope, and glimpsed one last time at the ocean.

“It’s so blue.” She whispered to herself as she stared down at the turquoise water from the gangplank. She was slightly disappointed that she didn’t have the time to properly appreciate it. One of the crewman quickly took her name and rank when she got on board, and he gave her a hold and bunk number in return. She spend the rest of the day finding her little bed, with one person sleeping above her and another beneath her in the rack, and putting away her things. Each person had a locker that corresponded to their bunk and hold; they were too small to hold much besides her bedroll and tent. She kept the necklace and tile close to her for now, stowing both beneath the lumpy pillow on her rack.

The rest of the afternoon was filled with monotony as they left port and headed out to sea: finding the mess deck, her friends, eating, being told where to go in an emergency and how the alarm system worked. The endless meetings and briefings were exhausting, and as soon as dinner was finished she quickly passed out.

She awoke to the ship rocking violently, nearly causing her to roll out of her rack. The sudden jolt woke her immediately, and she saw that most of the others in her hold had already gotten up and running frantically within the narrow metal hallways. She quickly jumped out of bed, figuring they must have hit something with how hard the ship shook, and tried to piece together what was going on. No one could give her a clear answer and she could barely hear herself think over the alarm blaring, so she followed the people scurrying around like tigerants trying to figure out what to do.

She finally spotted the colonel marching over to her, hollering and waving her down. “We need you up on the bridge.”

She nodded and began to follow his winding path through the crowded and dimly lit halls. “What’s going on?”

“We’re under attack.” He shouted back to her as the noises of battle and men got louder. “I was sent down to find you; we need you to help us deal with it.”

“How many ships?”

He shook his head as they finally reached the stairs that led up to the bridge. “Not sure.”

In a stark contrast to what was happening below deck, the bridge was relatively calm. The captain and his mates were bustling about to keep the ship on course and intact, but no one was panicking. The colonel escorted her out through a little door on the bridge to the upper part of the deck. She could see a triangular fleet approaching their own in the open sea, only visible against the dark ocean because of their lights and the flaming trebuchet blasts.

“Do you remember when I said that most firebenders wouldn’t be stupid enough to take on a waterbender with your reputation?” General Zuko coolly greeted her as she approached with the colonel before folding the spyglass he’d been using to study the ships. “I neglected to mention how much of an idiot Admiral Zhao was to you.”

“How can you be sure its Zhao, general?” Colonel Li asked.

Zuko nodded toward the main ship in the center of the formation. “It’s hard to see, even with the full moon, but that flagship is flying Admiral Bujing’s old sigil. When he passed, supposedly Zhao was promoted and put in charge; see for yourself.” He handed the spyglass over to the man, who unfolded it and carefully studied the ships approaching them on the horizon.

She stepped forward next. “Do you want me to take care of him?”

“He’s reckless and cocky.” He told her as he looked away from the battle scene. “It shouldn’t be hard. Take him and the flagship down and the others will leave us alone. I’m going to try and keep us afloat and on course in the meantime; knowing that bastard, he’ll ram his ship into ours to sink us if nothing else works.”

She nodded, leaving the two officers alone to their work while she went down to the bow of their own ship. Despite the protests of the deckhands on board, she lept right over the side, quickly raising a wave and freezing it into a flat chunk of ice to easily slide down onto the surface of the sea. Using the waves around her, she got a momentum going and pushed herself along toward the opposing fleet. Within minutes she was next to the flagship at the center, sneaking by relatively undetected in the cover of night.

The fighting began when she got close; dodging arrows and fire blasts thrown from the side of the flagship, she went around the back and iced over the propeller to disable the engine. It made a sickening grinding noise as the internal gears and pistons were forced to a halt. She created a wave against the starboard side, riding it upward and onto the flat metal deck. Wrapping seawater around her arms, she easily brought down the men on deck with swipes to their legs or water blasts to the chest. Streams of soldiers in uniform came out onto the deck to try and knock her down and restart the trebuchet, but they had made the grave mistake of fighting a waterbender in the middle of the ocean underneath a full moon.

One last man sauntered out of the door leading into the bowels of the ship. He wasn't particularly dressed any different than the other soldiers except for the arrogant smile he wore across his face. “I’ve been looking for you, Wolf.”

"Are you Admiral Zhao?"

He kept up the stupid grin. "I am. If you're as smart as they say you are, then surrender now."

Cocky. "No."

He set his legs into a fighting stance and frowned. "You want to go down with a struggle? Be my guest."

Zhao’s fighting style was all show and little substance. After fighting against Azula’s methodical precision and Zuko’s well-grounded finesse, she could spot someone who didn’t know what they were doing. He lifted his feet off the ground far too often and didn’t set them back in a solid stance to keep his center of weight steady; reckless. His attacks felt like they got their power from the movements of the form rather than the heat of the flames he wielded. He could produce an impressive amount of fire, but his interpretation of the art felt more like someone who was more concerned with making it look interesting than using it to fight effectively. It wasn’t difficult for her to sweep a tentacle of water beneath his feet and knock him on the ground.

The most impressive thing about the man was his inability to see himself fail. Every time she knocked him down he got right back up and went after her again. He chased her across the bow of the ship, up and down the stairways and external hallways along the port side. He hadn’t landed a single blow and he still continued to taunt her.

“I didn’t know waterbenders duck and ran like cowards!” He shouted as he shot another heatwave her way down a narrow walkway. “Your reputation must have been a lie if this is how you fight!”

She rolled her eyes and continued onward, finally reaching the edge of the railing on the stern. She put her hands on the cold metal railing and looked down again at the stalled propeller, turning around to her opponent just in time to turn another blast of fire into steam.

“Nowhere to run now.” He gave her that ridiculous smirk again as he realized they were out of ship. However, to her out of ship did not mean out of room.

“You want to capture me so bad?” She taunted back for the first time. “Fine. Then come and get me!” And with that, she jumped back over the side of the boat and onto the water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was midway through writing the Zhao/Katara fight when I realized that I needed to split it between two chapters. Sorry for the semi-awkward cut, but I think you’ll see why I bunched the end of the fight together with what happens after the fight when you read the next chapter.


	11. Shatter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been very sparse with chapter Trigger Warnings in this work, primarily because of the E rating. Just for this chapter, I want to post a TW for mental illness. It’s only for the last segment, so if that’s a big no-no for you then you can skip the third section and the ending notes. The end notes are just a discussion about how I’m portraying it here. I understand that it's a little dark and that it can be stressful to read, especially after the stressful week everyone in the US has had, so please don’t push yourself if you think it could bother you.

* * *

I guess no one will ever really know what did it; which straw broke the camelephant’s back. I only served for a few weeks, but from the little I could see, everyone’s patience with one another was wearing dangerously thin. I was personally sick of the war and I didn’t care much for her, but I would never set out to make her snap. Maybe the tea I accidentally burned because I was clumsy was what helped end the war after all. Anyway, that’s what I tell my grandkids when the ask what their Gam-Gam did during the war.

-excerpt from the personal writings of maidservant Cao Ta

* * *

Katara heard the angry shouts of Zhao as he threw wild blasts of fire down her way, but his attacks were useless at this point. Even with the engine being disabled, she decided to give his ship a few additional modifications. She conjured sharp spikes of ice from the sea to scrape along the metal hull beneath and above the water line, she created swirling waves and manipulated currents to slam the nearby ships into one another, and she pushed open a pathway between the port side of the flagship and the ship adjacent to it for Zuko’s fleet to sail through. She gave one last inspection of the damage, the flagship in tatters and several other ships in the fleet disabled after hitting one another, and was satisfied that the damage was significant enough to render the fleet disabled.

She gave one last look at the flagship’s bruised hull that was certainly taking on water before bending herself back to her own ship. She didn’t have to travel far, less than a kilometer away from the enemy flagship now that it was stalled. She climbed up to the railing by extending the tentacles of water wrapped around her arms to pull herself upward. She swung her legs around the railing and ungainly flopped onto the cold metal deck of her own ship and laid down on her back as the other soldiers cheered.

Katara let herself take a breather for a few minutes before the other soldiers gave her a hand and helped her back up. Even with the power of the ocean and the moon, disabling a fleet of ships singlehandedly was one of the more strenuous things she’d done with her element. She'd have a few sore muscles in the morning, but it would be worth it. She keenly watched Zhao’s ship as it began to pass by their stern, the gashes she put in the side of it making the bow start to dip into the ocean. She gave the admiral on the deck a friendly wave, leaning her elbows on the railing to watch his ship sink from afar as they passed. He gave her an angry snarl, audible over the sound of the roiling water around his ship and the battle behind them, and took a few steps backward in defeat.

Zuko was right; Zhao was stupid. Instead of accepting the loss and preparing a lifeboat, he regained his smug composure, put his hands on the ground in a ready position, and sprinted toward the edge of his own ship. He jumped high, leaping off the railing. With a few quick bursts of fire from his feet, he jettisoned himself through the gap between their two ships and landed on the deck with a roll. Even if Zhao was now completely surrounded on an enemy ship with no backup, the admiral got up and dusted himself off before facing her again, that annoying smirk still painted on his face. “I don’t let my prey go that easily.”

Angered by how brazen he was, she put a hand up to tell the other soldiers to back away. “You should have gone down with your ship,” she shouted over to him as she send another swift blast of water his way, “it would have been more honorable.”

Zhao turned the attack to steam before continuing with his taunting. “You’re not one to talk about honor, are you, princess?” That line made her pause, and he continued goading her. “I know all about you. You’ve made quite a reputation for yourself here, but I hear you have an even bigger one back home.”

She couldn’t help but stiffen. He let out a little chuckle once he realized he had her, and he began to saunter over to her like she was an animal with one foot in the snare about to be butchered for dinner. “Oh yes, I thought you looked familiar. They put out posters, you know; it was hard to get one in the Fire Nation. It’s a wonder that—”

Before he could complete his sentence, she awkwardly twisted her arm to jerk his body. She attenuated her senses to the push and pull within his body, the flow of blood and the strings of muscle, and she grabbed it. He stumbled to try and steady himself, but there was no way for him to fight against this.

“I don’t know what you think you know about me.” She growled at him as she stepped forward, keeping him frozen on the spot. “If you won’t shut your mouth, then I’ll shut it for you.”

With another awkward splay of her fingers, his gaping mouth was finally shut. She quickly brought him down to his knees, making him kneel as she approached him without fear of attack. He struggled to try and move his arms, but she could see it in his eyes that he was the trapped one now. To save him from even further terror she drained the blood out of his head, making him go limp and flop down on the deck as he lost consciousness.

She knelt down to his side. “You might know my name, but you don’t know who I am,” she whispered the taunt in his ear. Truth be told, she isn’t sure if he can really hear anymore, but she wanted to jab at him one last time. “If you had, then you would have known better.”

She picked up some of the water that had spilled on the deck, slipping it into his nostrils, down his throat, and into both of his lungs. Zhao was still alive enough to fight it, trying to cough it back up and clear his airway. She held her hand on his chest, partially to keep him down, but mostly to keep the water right where it was until he stopped fighting it. She carefully watched his face, taking note of his breathing and diaphragm contractions, until they were no more. 

She stood up to to dust herself off and return to the bridge after she was finished, only to find that everyone else aboard had stopped what they were doing to watch her. She took a glance around at her wary onlookers, no one daring to move a muscle.

Finally breaking the silence, the Fire Prince pushed his way through the crowd and toward her. He gave her a cursory glance before kneeling next Zhao. He put two fingers to his neck to check for a pulse before standing back up and addressing her. “What did you do?”

“I killed him.” She said indignantly, throwing a hand down toward the body. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“You didn’t just kill him.” He snapped as he got up in her face, gesturing back toward the body. “What did you do to him?”

She didn’t know how to answer. She didn’t want to answer. So, instead, she turned around. She passed through the crowd around them, ignoring the shouts from the Prince and the stares from the crew, and went back into the bowels of the ship. She didn’t go to her bunk; she found a nice, dark, quiet corner somewhere in the cargo hold, sat down behind some crates, and cried her eyes out.

* * *

Zuko wouldn’t say he was angry. He was certainly upset, but he wasn’t angry. He couldn’t be angry with the person who singlehandedly saved his fleet from potential destruction, but he couldn’t ignore what he’d witnessed her do.

He hadn’t seen the full ordeal from the bridge, but he had listened to the stories spun by the soldiers on deck. He saw her bring down Zhao without touching him or using water; the others said she’d forced him to kneel using some kind of strange bending. One nervous man suggested witchcraft. The only opinion that was consistent between everyone was that they had never seen anything like it before, which is why he needed to speak directly to her about it.

The girl that came into his office the morning after the incident was a far cry from the person who brought and admiral to his knees the night before. She looked unkempt and exhausted, her eyes dull and red. She was more submissive than he’d ever seen her before, flinching at any loud noises reverberating through the ship and at him as he stared her down. She sat herself down at his desk and kept her gaze downcast.

“Are you going to explain to me what happened last night now,” she flinched again as he barked at her, “or am I going to have to force it out of you?”

When she didn’t answer, he hit his fist on the desk, making her flinch harder. “You agreed to be under my command. You still have to answer to me."

She opened her mouth once or twice, trying to chew on the words before she spoke them aloud. “What I did was forbidden. He goaded me into it.”

“What do you mean, forbidden?”

She visibly swallowed, still keeping her eyes busy by examining her hands. “What I did to him was a forbidden waterbending technique. It was wrong, and I admit that. It won’t happen again.”

“I would hope not, but that still isn’t much of an explanation.”

She inhaled and exhaled, calming herself. “Are you familiar with anatomy?”

“Not particularly.”

“The body has a network of veins running throughout it.” She explained more calmly than before as she found her confidence again. “These allow blood to flow throughout the entire body. Blood flow controls muscle contractions, movement, even organ and brain function.”

“I didn’t ask you for an anatomy lesson.” He snapped back, growing weary of her stalling.

“Blood is made of water.” This time, it was his turn to be stunned, and he could feel the very stuff growing cold in his body when she finally looked at him in the eye and explained it. “I bended the blood in his body.”

That was a truly terrifying thought. When he had seen her, he hadn’t really known what to make of what she’d done. He’d figured Zhao was coated in seawater or something; how else could she have made his arm flail around? Bending blood sounded more akin to torture than a fighting technique; he couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to not have control over your own body. Is it painful? Is it terrifying? How does the mind react when it tells the body to move and the body does not respond to it? Despite Zhao being an insufferable, arrogant man, no one deserved to have control over their body taken from them in their last moments of life.

“You can probably understand why its forbidden.” She broke the silence that had grown between them when he didn’t answer her. She gazed out a porthole and continued. “I don’t know what you’re thinking about now that you know this, but you can’t weaponize it. I can only do it during a full moon, and it’s very draining for me to do. It has medicinal uses, which is why I picked it up, because of the war.” As soon as she said that, he noticed her wince slightly when she realized she forgot to lie about being a healer. “I’m not going to get into the details of its usage with you, but the way I used it was wrong. It won’t happen again.”

“It better not.” He wasn’t going to hound her about lying since she’d clearly learned her lesson. Perhaps the fact that she could control blood was the reason she didn’t want people knowing she was a healer; it was morbid to think about. “You understand I’m going to have to enact some kind of punishment, right?”

She nodded. He leaned back in his chair as he tried to think it over. “For using such brutal tactics in war, I should have you discharged. I know you have nowhere else to go, though, so I won’t kick you out. Go down to the Komodo rhino stables on the lower deck and see if they need help. Do what they ask until we make port, and we’ll go from there. If anyone asks you what happened tell them the truth and that you’re being punished accordingly for it.”

She nodded again and stood up, but he interrupted before she could leave. “Kya, I’m giving you special treatment. Don’t make me regret it.”

She gave him a wan smile and a bow. “I won’t.”

After she’d shut the metal door behind herself, he pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed his eyes. This was one of the many impossible situations where he felt like he’d let his feelings get in the way of his decision-making. Would he have made the same decision if a firebender had broken the rules of war? He couldn’t say. Was her action admissible because she would be homeless otherwise? No. Should he have demoted her? Possibly. Shoveling rhino dung for the next few days was more adequate punishment for someone who disobeyed orders, which she hadn’t done, so was it the correct thing to do? Father always said he was soft when it came to matters like this, but he would far rather have Kya on his side than against him. The fact that she could bend blood and create a whirlpool to disable and entire fleet far outweighed the fact that she was attractive in this case. He had begun to realize that he not only wanted her here, but he needed her to end this war. He would not have made it this far without her; he might not have lived through the night without her. The least he could do was let her atone for her mistakes and move past them instead of doling out drastic and unnecessary punishment. His current decision would have to do, even if some of the men silently questioned him for it. Her reputation was already established long ago, and if they didn’t like her, they’d have to deal with it.

He let the nagging thoughts go as he pulled out the map of the island they were headed toward. The captain informed him that morning that they were still on course to make port within the week. By this point he had already memorized the layout of the little island, but he continued to review the plan in his mind to look for flaws. If they camped adjacent to the lake then Kya could give them an advantage again, but then the campsite would be on uneven ground that would make defending it more difficult. Another tough decision with no perfect answer, but the current plan would have to do. If he wanted to win this war he was going to have to start thinking like his father and Azula would, which meant sacrificing defense for offense. If he could get there safely, give Kya the lake, and find Druk again once they’d landed on the island, then he could do this.

* * *

“Your tea, Princess Azula.”

She accepted the cup from the serving girl, giving her a nod to set it down for her on the desk for a moment as she poured over the various reports and maps strewn across her desk. She had the entire plan mapped out, every detail finely planned. She’d stayed awake for two days piecing it all together. She needed this victory; she needed it to be decisive and clean. Failure was not tolerated, and failing twice? Absolutely not. Not to Zuko, of all people. Her disgrace of a brother may have gotten the best of her last time, but never again. 

A little part of her mind feared the rumors, that her actions had damned her soul and their campaign, but she wasn’t one to believe in spiritual hogwash and neither was her father. Nonsense about bad luck and spirits are peasant talk. Even if father had always said she was born lucky, it wasn’t luck that kept her running: it was pure talent. She eagerly eyed the little dragon tooth she kept on her desk, a physical token of that talent to remind herself whenever she felt self-doubt. Ever since Zuko mastered lightning, father had been reminding her that the two siblings were on even ground now. Father always expected her to be better, and she was. Zuko might have a dragon, but not even he was powerful enough to take one down. No other firebender in history, no other Fire Princess in history, had accomplished what she had. She was the best, plain and simple, and she would win this war for her father because she was the best. Perhaps she was born under a lucky star or whatever peasants prattled on about to make themselves feel better, but it was her own ingenuity that was going to win the day and win this war for her father.

Lucky or not, what she really needed at the moment was something warm in her belly to keep her awake enough to run over everything in her mind once more. Thinking nothing more of it, she picked up the cup the servant had put on her desk, took a sip, and promptly spit the contents back into the cup.

“What is this blend?!” She snapped at the serving girl, looking up from her work.

“Its…is it not to your liking, princess?” The girl cowed after the verbal lashing.

“No, it most certainly is not.” She set the porcelain teacup down on the wooden desk hard enough to crack it. “I ordered jasmine, not this burned rubbish. Get out.”

“My apologies, princess, I—”

“You want to apologize?” This stupid girl was making her temper flare. “You serve your princess this poison and ask me to forgive you? I shouldn’t expect any better from a useless, uneducated, low-born serving girl. Get out of my encampment.”

“Yes, Princess Azula.” The girl scurried out of sight and through the door. Once the servant was gone, she pulled out the container of yellow mungroot from her desk drawer, took a pinch in her hand, and chewed it up. She might have been satirical about being served poison, but one can never be too cautious when it comes to getting something slipped into tea, even if the herb tasted worse than burned jasmine.

Not a few minutes later, she was interrupted from her work again when two other girls came into her tent.

“What now?” She asked, glaring up from her papers.

“Azula, that was the third servant you dismissed this week.” Ty Lee cautiously pointed out. “Is everything ok?”

“No you dolt, of course it isn’t!” She snapped at the girl, making her big brown eyes water. “The bitch that bested me is still breathing and my brother has the audacity to make an advance because of it. Admiral Zhao only put us even further behind. If my damned servant can’t even make my tea without burning it, then they’re of no use to me.”

She knew from the get-go that Zhao wouldn’t have been able to best the waterbender. If she hadn’t been able to then he certainly wouldn’t, even with the element of surprise and whatever ‘secret information’ he’d claimed he dug up about her. The only reason she allowed Zhao to throw himself at the problem was that she needed more time. She still needed more time, but what she was given would have to do.

“You’re under a lot of pressure, and we know that,” Mai admitted calmly, ever the peacemaker, “We want to help.”

"The only thing you two managed to do was let that bitch get away. You’re no more useful to me than a common foot soldier.”

“Azula, please…” Ty Lee let a tear roll down her cheek, reaching out a hand toward her.

“Don’t start crying to me like a child.” She spat at her friend, who quickly flinched and withdrew the hand. “You probably let her get away, didn’t you? You wanted Zuko to win, didn’t you, Mai? Wanted your little prince-charming fantasy, so that you can live happily ever after? Or was it because of your brother; you wanted to be more loyal to your family than to your princess? And what about you, Ty Lee? What did you have to gain?” She surveyed the two girls, who were keeping their heads bowed and their lips sealed, much to her displeasure. The least these two could do was be honest with her about their loyalties. She had been quite curious of how Zuko had figured out her battle plan; there was no possibly way that he could outsmart her without help. She hadn’t found the mole in her camp yet, but this was a good place to start. “You’re both disappointments to me and to your Fire Lord. You’re dismissed as well.”

The two took a quick look at one another. “Dismissed?” Mai asked, breaking her stoic exterior to raise an eyebrow.

“What about that term confuses you, dear Mai?” she responded acerbically. “For once, use that lovely mind of yours: it means leave me alone and leave my camp. I don’t want useless traitors around me when I’m on the cusp of my greatest military victory.”

“Please don’t do anything rash,” Ty Lee implored, “We support you whatever you decide, and—”

“Are you my colonel, Ty Lee?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Are you the Fire Lord?”

“No?”

“Then you have no grounds to give me tactical advice, do you?”

She bowed her head. “No, Princess Azula.”

“Then get out of my sight. You’re lucky I kept you around after your last failure; there won’t be another one.” Mai put an arm around Ty Lee, and the two idiots that constituted for friends finally left her alone.

Without a current servant, she had to undress for the evening alone like a peasant. It was deplorable and far beneath her, but at least she could trust herself. She knew that she wasn’t a secret spy reporting her every action to her enemies, she knew that her loyalties were to herself and to her one true Fire Lord. The only problem was she couldn’t get the damn hairpiece out. Somehow she managed to twist the wretched thing around her finger, yanking her topknot in the process. She allowed herself to wince for a moment, before realizing how childish it was. She was a warrior, a general of her army, and here she was unable to tolerate the pain of getting her hair pulled. 

Weakness; that’s what this was. Too weak to undo her hair properly, too weak to even stand the pain of undoing it. Well, weakness can be fixed very easily with a little shove. Without thinking twice about it, she grabbed the nearest pair of scissors and chopped her unruly hair. Having long hair is bad for a warrior, anyway; it can get grabbed and pulled in battle, and any disadvantage in a fight is weakness.

It wasn’t until her new hair fell down onto her shoulders that she saw how ridiculous she looked in the mirror. Her silky hair, now with a jagged edge, crookedly framed her face. She almost felt remorse: royals never cut their hair unless they lost their honor like Zuko had, but then again, she wasn’t a very typical royal. She hadn’t had it cut in years, only getting the edges trimmed when necessary to keep it even and healthy.

Her fingers gently set down the scissors and found the edge of her hair. She laughed, joyously cackling to herself as she looked at her reflection and twined her fingers along the uneven strands. She snorted and shrieked to herself as she stared at her appearance. She laughed so hard she started crying. It really was pretty funny, looking at the lopsided haircut in the mirror. If it was one thing a princess didn’t know how to do, it was cut her own hair. She’d always had servants do it; she’d never even picked up a pair of scissors before. Eventually she stopped laughing and just kept crying. It was just so funny, her situation, being surrounded by idiots, traitors, and fake allies, and now she had to lead them with this terrible hairdo. She clutched her sides to keep herself upright, smiling as she rocked herself and tried to breathe properly. She was so angry and so comical that she was practically shaking.

It was just so funny, thinking that Zuko and that water bitch would be killed by a girl with hair like that. How the paintings of her great victory would feature her appearance like this. She paused for a moment to give her tear-stained face a better look; perhaps her hair just needed a few more cuts to get evened out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I personally think one of the most difficult things to write well in this fandom is Azula. There are three ways people typically write her: paranoid schizophrenic (or at the very least, extremely mentally ill), stereotypically evil Female Disney Villain (see: Maleficent or the Evil Queen; this one is usually the most fun to read imo), or a weird mix of the first two to try and make her somewhat sympathetic but also erratic and ‘crazy’ (see: the comics). There’s the even lesser seen ‘fully redeemed’ version of her, which I always love to see when it pops up, but right now I want to talk about how people write her when she’s at her lowest. Azula is not a paranoid schizophrenic; she has one schizophrenic episode when she’s in an extremely poor mental state. She doesn’t need to see hallucinations to be mentally ill, and she doesn’t need to have a mental illness to be paranoid or have a mental breakdown. THIS is what it looks like when you’re on the verge of a mental breakdown, regardless if it results from mental illness or stress: overanalyzing, paranoia, perfectionism, low self-esteem (thinking of herself as weak and thinking of her appearance as a joke), terrified of others seeing your distress, pushing away your support system, and finally, erratic behavior (cutting her hair, being overly snappish, and staying awake for days). Her father is the one that’s pushing her this hard, and that combined with the environment she’s in is the cause of her mental distress. Azula doesn’t have to be a schizophrenic with hallucinations to be sympathetic, and she doesn’t need to have violent tendencies resulting from extreme mental illness to be an interesting villain. Remember: you can be depressed without having clinical depression, you can be a very bubbly and excitable person without having ADHD, you can like organization and neatness without having OCD, and you can feel anxious without having a clinical anxiety disorder.
> 
> Well, that’s nein’s two cents on Azula. On a slightly more fun note, bloodbending is a great way to get someone to shut the fuck up before they reveal your identity. Especially someone as loudmouthed and well researched as Admiral Zhao likes to be. One underrated cannon character aspect about him is that he’s kind of a massive nerd who singlehandedly found a secret, hidden library and read about the Water Tribe for literally days on end. He might be stupid but he’s not dumb, and as an academic I can respect that.


	12. The Battle of the Dragons

* * *

The battle that marked the beginning of the end of the Taisho Conflict was a tragedy. Thousands of lives were lost on either side, and the fighting only lasted for an hour and a half. More Fire Nation lives were lost on that day than any other, even beating out the single day death records during the septapox outbreak in Kisu 19 and the infamous massacre on the Day of Black Sun.

-an excerpt from Military History of the Fire Nation: Prominent Leaders and Conflicts that Shaped the Nation

* * *

The army had marched for two days straight after making port in a run-down port city. Dismemberment felt just as rushed as embarkment, especially now that Katara was on mucking duty. The komodo rhinos weren’t unkind animals unless spooked or provoked, and their calm and gentle nature made the job much more enjoyable. They didn’t threaten to stampede every time the ship jostled like the eelhounds did, at least according to the other handlers. Katara had grown up around animals; she and her brother went penguin-sledding as children and played hide-and-seek in the barn that housed the caribou-elk and arctic hens. She wasn’t afraid to break a nail mucking the stables; on the contrary, the solitary nature of it was welcome. Those that had witnessed her outburst were far from her on the upper decks, and when they did meet eyes during mealtimes, they were too tentative to ask questions.

Once they made port, she was put in charge of loading the carts onto the rhinos and taking them off at the end of the day. The work was more tiresome than it was on the ship because she had to set up her own things after the rhinos were fed and watered every evening. The island was so small there was only one slim dirt road running through it for them to follow, winding through the numerous gentle green hills and outcroppings of black volcanic rock covered in a thick layer of soft moss and grass. What should have been a day’s march turned into three because the uneven terrain and narrow walkway, which forced the rhinos into single file and the soldiers to march shoulder-to-shoulder. By the third day of it, and after they’d finally reached the tentative new campsite near the center of the island, she knew that her body was exhausted enough to sleep straight through until morning. Except it wasn’t; she awoke sometime during the night, when she could still feel the pull of the moon in her veins. When she lazily snuggled further into her sleeping roll in the hopes of catching a few additional hours of rest, she heard someone screaming.

That sound put a fire under her. She forced her eyes open to find that light was streaming in through the flap of her tent. She got up out of her bedroll, got dressed, and took a peek outside. She quickly found the source of the light at midnight: the entire camp was on fire. It was an ambush.

She snagged her canteen and looped it around her belt before bolting outside to survey the damage. She figured her best chance of helping the situation was to get down to the river; if she could pick up enough water, she could try and douse the fire raging through camp. 

“Hey!” She heard a familiar shout to her left, pausing to get a good look just as On Jin threw a man down on his back. “Get over here!”

“Where’s everyone else?” She asked her friend as she jaunted over.

“Don’t know.” She shook her head and threw a wave of fire at a swordsman before he could get the drop on her.

“I need to get to the lake, do you know where that is?”

Her friend put a hand on her shoulder, nodded, and started jogging. She led her through the clogged pathways in between tents, trying desperately to avoid the skirmishes here and there as they ran down the hill. Katara kept the little water she had at her side, wanting to save it unless it was absolutely necessary until she could get a larger quantity to work with. She was able to defend herself here and there by taking water out of troughs or in puddles pooled in the grass, but the unbearable heat of the raging inferno of a fire made finding water nearly impossible.

She couldn’t say how long they fought their way through. Time became measured in things happening instead of minutes or seconds. The first thing that happened was figuring out she could bend alcohol; she used it to trip someone up by wrapping a few bottle’s worth around their leg, but her friend hadn’t realized the substance she’d fought with was flammable. As On Jin threw fire at the man the alcohol that had seeped into the fabric of his pant leg caught fire. They pressed on as he screamed and writhed on the ground to try and put it out. The second thing that happened was when a large tent toppled over, blocking their path. The sparks from the charred wooden poles and the flaming cotton blew right in her friend’s face, and they had to take a moment to sit on the ground so she could choke out the smoke and ash. After a few moments On Jin wiped the mucous away from her mouth and nose and Katara used some of her precious water to flush out her eyes, and the two continued on. The third thing she remembered was a man sitting on the ground, reaching out a hand toward her as the other clutched his gouged throat. The fourth was when she nearly lost a hand after a swordsman made a swing at her, but On Jin threw him back into a flaming tent that collapsed onto him. The fifth thing was when she realized that she had accumulated enough sweat from the heat to bend, using it to slash the eyes of someone charging toward her. He quickly fell to the ground and clutched his face; she could hear him shrieking even over the noise of battle.

The events went on and on as an indeterminant amount of time passed as the two cut a path through the fray. Their shoes splashed through the bloodied mud, they ducked behind the numerous grassy knolls that dotted the plains, and they followed the tentative footpaths between the rows of blazing tents and the rocky hills. In the hellish world of red and black, a flash of blue interrupted their trajectory.

“There you are, water peasant!” The two careened in the direction it came from to see the haggard-looking Princess Azula. Her once neatly styled hair was matted and hacked to pieces, the lipstick around her lips smeared onto her teeth and partially below her lip as if she wasn’t looking at herself in a mirror when she put it on; the strap that held her armor onto her left shoulder was loose, causing it to slouch slightly on that side. The girl looked like she’d already been in a fight and lost to get into this state, but her attitude said otherwise; as the two locked their gazes together, the princess swaggered forward and gave a challenging grin. “I was wondering when I would smoke you out.”

She and On Jin gave each other a quick, confused glance. Her friend mouthed ‘left,’ and they were off.

Fighting Azula was hard the first time, and it was no easier now. Even with the advantage of the moon and her friend, the Fire Princess was as ferocious as before. On Jin went left and she went right, trying to attack in tandem to throw the princess off her rhythm. By this point she was near exhaustion and so was her friend, and their weariness combined with her lack of water made their attacks more akin to annoyances as the princess swatted them away like flies. On Jin made the mistake of getting in close, trying to blast an uppercut of fire right in the princesses’ face, but Azula was quicker. She grabbed her friend's hand and twisted it backward to wrench her arm.

Katara heard On Jin scream as Azula twisted her arm and wrist at an unnatural angle before tossing her to the side. She fell onto her now mangled hand and stayed on the ground as she gingerly clutched it. With On Jin down, Azula turned her attention to Katara. She used up the last of her water blocking a large blue fire blast and was only partially successful. She kept herself from getting burned, but the force of the attack knocked her backward onto one of the grassy hills. 

There was a loud ringing in her ears that sang above the other atmospheric sounds of fire burning and battle, and every inch of skin felt tingly and fuzzy. She blearily opened her eyes, realizing that she must have been knocked unconscious from the force, to find a black person-shaped blur approaching her before running off. She gave herself a few moments to regain consciousness and awareness, going through the sequence of events in her mind as she steadied her breathing and twitched her fingers and toes: she had been fighting Azula, Azula knocked her back, and now Azula was gone. She couldn’t see On Jin anywhere. She regained enough strength to stand herself up, taking a brief moment to take in the surroundings. The tents around her continued burning like torches in the night, the wind sweeping through the camp to fan the flames. The scent of burning hair and flesh was distinguishable enough from the burning cloth and wood of the encampment; each breath nearly made her stomach turn from the smell alone.

She found Azula, standing regally atop a stone outcropping with her back turned to her. The princess must have figured she had finished her off, because she was now stalking different prey. Katara easily found Zuko fighting below in another clearing, fire swirling around him with each slash of his swords. The princess wound up, the blue lightning between her fingertips beginning to coalesce in her hands. Zuko wasn’t looking up. Azula took aim, to his left, over his heart. He wasn’t going to see. He didn’t turn around.

Katara ran as fast as she could, as fast as her legs would carry her forward into the firefight. Even giving it everything she could, she felt like her legs were running through thick snow. At this point her lungs were screaming and her head was pounding from the smoke of the fires and the lack of air. She took one last look upward at the rocky outcropping where the princess was standing, her fingers aimed straight at her, and all the air in her lungs was forced out of her as she was knocked backward once again.

* * *

Zuko felt the shove coming from his left. Whoever had approached him looking for a fight clearly had no idea how much he really weighted; even with the full force of their body against his he barely stumbled back a few inches. He swung his swords in that direction, trying to get the man to back away. He’d been so on edge when he was awakened by his burning camp the reaction was instinctive. Instead of a man wearing his father’s bright sigil on their armor, he saw the waterbender crumpled on the ground. Her body seized unnaturally, limbs twitching and fingers going from taught to splayed as the muscles in her body spasmed, and there was a raw, fresh burn on her midsection. He could feel the hair on his neck and arms stand on end from the electricity that had arced through the air a mere second ago, and he scanned the scene and found the source. 

His sister had gone completely mad; he had never seen her so disheveled and unkempt. Her cackle pierced the night, as clear and bright as her lightning. She threw her head backward in amusement, and when she looked back down at him he could see the loose strands of ill-cut hair clinging to the sweat on her brow, framing a sickeningly wicked smile.

He put the dual swords back together and carefully put them back in their sheath behind his back. “No one else has to get hurt.” He shouted up to Azula, still standing precariously on top of her stone outcropping. “Let’s settle this, just you and me. Agni Kai.”

Her toothy grin widened further as it split her cheeks. “The battle that was always meant to be. Agni Kai!” She wasted no time winding up for another burst; she was quicker than he was and she knew it. She reserved her lightning for the time being, sending a ball of flaming blue fire crashing downward into the clearing. He easily directed it around himself and created a two long, trailing whips of fire extending from his hands, cracking them on the outcropping she was standing on to break it. His sister easily slid downward and onto his level, and the real fight began.

His world became a series of blue and orange flashes. A blue wheel of fire here, an orange burst there. The two siblings were so concentrated on each other that they didn’t waste a single movement or breath. Every footstep was perfectly rooted and calculated, every form used like an illustration out of a scroll. They’d had the same firebending tutors as children and it showed; although their styles were different, they were one and the same. Two sides of the same coin bending in the neat tandem of attack and deflect.

“Zu-Zu, she doesn’t look so good!” His sister taunted with a grin, trying to get him to turn around as she sent another wave of blue fire careening his way. “You’ll have to get the physician to look after her!”

He wanted nothing more than to do what his sister desired; to stop fighting and run over to where Kya had fallen and see if she was still alive. His sister fought like something was…off, like she was slipping somehow. She was still Azula, still as sharp and deadly, but there were little mistakes in her form that had begun to show through the cracks. There was a chance the lightning might not have hit her in the heart, or perhaps Azula hadn’t created a powerful enough blast to kill. There was no way he could help her now, not when his sister was propelling herself around him with jets of fire from her feet to try and pen him in. Even if she was still Azula, she’d made the critical mistake of not keeping her stance rooted. He ducked beneath another fire blast and used his feet to throw a ring of fire at hers, the momentum she’d created to attack him now causing her to lose her balance and topple over.

Her trip proved fatal to her attack pattern as her body tumbled across the grass before finally stopping as she hit a rocky crag. He was almost wondering if the drastic fall had broken her neck when she remained slumped over in the dirt, but that would have been far too easy, and this was Azula. She slowly got herself back up, not seriously harmed, but she was favoring her right foot as she strode toward him. Before she could attack again, their fight was interrupted by a roar so loud he could feel it reverberating in his chest.

Zuko had began to fear that his dragon had gotten lost or that something horrible had happened, but by the spirits he always picked the perfect time to reappear. Druk usually wandered on his own whenever he travelled by ship, but it had been a worrying sign when he was still nowhere to be seen after they’d landed and marched for three days. The noise of battle must have attracted him here tonight, and knowing that his pet came back to make sure everything was alright made a spark of joy swell in his heart.

The dragon quickly slowed its descent, flapping its heavy wings to settle down with an earthshaking thud on the ground. The ruby pupils fixed quickly on him before swiveling toward Azula, who was now sandwiched between him and the dragon.

“You still think he’s dumb and useless?” He shouted at his sister as he and his dragon encircled her. Her rapid breathing now turned frenetic, and her eyes flashed between him and the dragon as she desperately tried to think of an escape. He could see her expression slowly morph from panic back to steady, and after a few moments she finally caught her breath and held her chin up high.

“Do you honestly expect your runt to intimidate?” She spat at him, and the dragon curled its lips backward to reveal its fangs. “The dragon I took down was larger than your lizard, and I invented the technique, brother!” She pointed a finger at herself as she continued her tirade. "Let me show you how I did it!"

She set her feet into a wide stance and steadied her composure and breathing again. The blue flashes of light began to arc between her fingers as she wound up, but this time he was ready. Druk was ready. Her eyes flicked to the two of them one last time just to confuse them before she pointed at him.

His training with the waterbender had not been in vain; her death in this war wouldn't be in vain, because he would never let his nation forget how she was the one that truly led them to victory today. The same was she made her element flow, pushing and pulling, he took the lightning into his outstretched fingers, pushed it into his core, and pulled it back outward through his hand at his sister.

He had never felt so alive than in that brief moment of time. He could feel the surge flowing through his chi paths, an infinite amount of power suddenly constrained to his body. Every hair stood on end, every inch of skin was singing with electricity. For a moment he was worried he might lose it and allow it to consume him, but he let it flow gently back outward. What at first felt like a roaring river swollen from the monsoon rains became a gentle babbling brook as it left his hand.

It didn’t hit his sister; he aimed over her head, going high and wide. The look on her face was her defeat enough; she didn’t need to be killed like this. She was utterly crushed; she was no more. Her bottom lip quivered as she softly blinked tears out of her eyes, letting them flow freely down her cheeks. She let herself fall to her knees, her body suddenly unable to support its own weight as her spirit was crushed.

Ultimately, her life wasn’t his to protect or take. When he got close enough to her, her face twisted back into a mangled scowl and she screamed fire. Before it could even reach him it was snuffed out; the dragon had grabbed her from behind, sinking one tooth into the base of her neck, and shook. It was quick. It was painless. It was probably better than she deserved. He may not want to directly kill his sister, but she’d damned herself when she insulted the dragons. They wouldn’t let her live after killing one of their kind and bathing in its blood like a proud huntress. It was probably better that of all of them, Druk was the one to do it. He didn’t torture her, he just put a poor twisted girl out of her misery. It was probably what she would have wanted, anyway; to die on the battlefield, proudly proclaiming that no man or disease could kill her, not even old age.

At least, that’s what he told himself. When the dragon finally released his vice-grip on her throat and she fell limply to the ground, he forgot how to breathe. Looking at the little trickle of blood coming from her neck was starting to make him feel ill. He half expected her to get back up again and start screaming about how only he was so stupid to fall for a trick like that, but there was nothing. 

Once he turned his back to her, he knew that it was truly over. He inhaled deeply, facing the burning camp around him; as he exhaled, the fires lowered and dissipated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen…I didn’t want to kill Azula. I wrestled with whether I was going to do it for a very long time. I like Azula, as all of you can probably tell. I ultimately decided this would be a better story if I did, so I did. And, honestly, we need to keep in mind that famous quote from Cersei Lannister when it comes to civil wars, regime changes, and battles for political power: “When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die. There is no middle ground.” I tried to make her demise at least as poetic as it was in the original cannon. I hope I did good on that front.
> 
> And yes, this is a "but what if KATARA took the lightning 🥺🥺" story. I love that trope, ok?
> 
> To sweeten the sadness, I have a personal announcement I want to make. If anyone read my previous story, you’ll know that I mentioned I was accepted to a PhD program in a foreign country. I may have to take a short hiatus from this story because it’s officially time for me to move over there! It’s been really hard to get approval with COVID going on but it’s finally happening and I’m super excited. Even though I’m still a little over a week away from leaving I wanted to post the announcement now because my flight leaves the day after I usually update, so I’m not sure if I’ll be able to update next week or not. Getting ready to leave has eaten into a lot of my writing time and it’s been really hard to say goodbye to all of my family and friends so I might not be able to update until after I've landed and I’m in my hotel quarantining, I’m just not sure yet. If I do post it might be at an odd time, I might get busy and not be able to, and I might even stop responding to comments. I’m not abandoning this story and I’m not dropping off the face of the earth, it’s just that life is well and truly getting in the way for me and that’s a good thing. I know that this is terrible timing with the cliffhanger but please be patient with me; I’m moving to a country where I’m not fluent with speaking, reading or writing the native language, the flight over will be extremely long and tiring, and I need time to get settled in and shake off my jet lag. I’m going to try and post what I can when I can (which might mean a normal update next week but idk yet), but the newness of being in a country I’ve never visited before might overwhelm me for a little bit. I’ve travelled abroad before but this is a big change for me, so I really appreciate your patience.
> 
> TL;DR: I’m moving very far away and it’s eating up my writing time. Updates might get delayed; I’ll be back when I can.  
> -nein


	13. The Spirit of Jang Hui

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back, lovelies!
> 
> First of all, I wanna give a massive thank you to everyone in the comments that sent kind words and well wishes. I’m sorry if I haven’t responded to your comment yet; I’m still going through them and doing that rn. I’m trying to be good about responding to comments in this fic but sometimes I’m dumb and forget to do it.
> 
> Unfortunately, my life is still going to be in limbo for a little bit. Long story short, the country I’m travelling to requires me to take a COVID test 72 hours before my flight and my country is overwhelmed with testing right now, so I missed the flight because I didn’t get the results in time. I’m gonna try again but chances aren’t super high that I’ll be able to travel right now because its hard to get test results back that quickly. I’ll still get over there sometime, but if the second try doesn’t work out I won’t be going over until next year. I’ll probably be able to go back to weekly updates if I miss my flight a second time, so that’s good for you guys lol. You can probably tell from the style of my writing that I’m American, so a quick shoutout to our godawful healthcare system and the pisspoor government response to the pandemic for screwing me over and making me miss my flight. This is the third flight I’ve missed this year because of COVID, all of which were education related.
> 
> It might be because I’m (clearly) in a very emotional mood right now, but I cried several times while writing this chapter so I’m officially rating it E for Emotional Damage. That’s not much of a trigger warning, but yea, just be sure you’re ok before you read this because it might put you in a sad mood. I wanted to get it out at my prescribed update time but like I said before, things are nuts. It’s a few days late but here you go.

* * *

Almost overnight, a minor river spirit on an island most had never heard of became a national idol. The original statue in Jang Hui, considered the first artistic work depicting the spirit, is five meters in height and carved in wood, painted with locally sourced dyes. The sculptor, unfortunately, remains unknown to this day, and the statue continues to spark discussion among art historians about when it was created and by whom. Its likeness has been copied hundreds of times in various sizes and makes, the most common of which are the simple, hand-sized wooden idols many modern Fire Nation physicians keep by the windows in their reception area for good fortune. Its rare that a historical event became so closely tied to a preexisting work of art and not the other way around; it gave the artwork an entirely new cultural meaning as it spread.

-an excerpt from A History of Fire Nation Art: From Huan through Taisho.

* * *

The fighting and the worst of the fires died before midnight. Kya still had a heartbeat by the time he got to her but was unresponsive, so he brought her into the hastily erected medical tent. He ordered the head physician to see to her immediately; her injuries were worse than some of the seriously burned. Zuko almost felt nauseous all over again at the sight of so many suffering people, some begging as he passed them that they just wanted the pain to end and for it to all be over, and he felt even worse ignoring them. He felt his throat close as the physician ushered him into a tiny hospital room, the walls separating it from the rest made of thin bamboo and cotton dividers, and he laid her body down on the bed. The physician told him to come back in half an hour after he’d finished his initial assessment.

He collected his sister’s body second, giving it to the makeshift undertakers. A pair were pulling a wooden cart behind a komodo rhino to clean up the bodies littering the camp in the aftermath of the fight. He managed to call them over before the wandered too far.

“General,” one of the young man asked cautiously as he leaned over the side of his mount, “there is the matter of what to do with her remains.”

“Cremate her,” he replied without a second thought, “give her a royal burial.”

The young man gave him a questioning look, not wanting to say he was incorrect outright but not wanting to do the task as asked. “Are you sure that’s appropriate, given the nat—”

“Just do it.” He didn’t have the time to write to the Fire Sages to figure out exactly what was ‘appropriate’ for this situation. A member of the royal family was dead, so they’d get a royal burial. He threw the undertakers a handful of gold and told them to have it arranged by evening tomorrow before going on his way.

He busied himself with trying to glue together the ragged pieces of his men. He helped the injured get care and the lost find a place to congregate as they worked out a plan. His half an hour was over in the blink of an eye, before he could even find his colonel to try and figure out what they were going to do.

“It didn’t hit her heart.” The physician explained as he met him at the entrance and walked alongside him back to Kya’s makeshift room. “She took it in the stomach.”

If the situation wasn’t dire, he would have smiled. Was it really only a few weeks ago when he’d taught her that? It felt like a lifetime ago, staying on that island and sparring with her and shooting lightning at a lake for hours. “How is her condition?”

The physician frowned and shook his head, and he didn’t feel like smiling anymore. “Very poor. It may not have hit her heart directly, but the damage is done. Her pulse is erratic, and her breathing is shallow. She will not survive.”

The room they finally arrived at smelled sickly sweet, a combination of herbs, incense, and sweat. He mused to himself that this was probably the first time she’d ever slept in this camp; he always seemed to catch her sneaking out at night. It looked like she was finally sleeping; a peaceful slumber, nothing more. Her body was covered in a thin blanket, he couldn’t even see the wound. She was just sleeping in this little room, away from the fray and the confusion, safe and sound.

“We’ve given her opium for the pain.” The physician nearly startled him when he spoke, even though his voice was only loud enough for him to be heard over the sounds of surgery and work in the background. “She won’t suffer when she passes.”

“How long does she have?”

“She will be lucky if she survives the rest of the night. Extremely lucky.”

The sunrise was only a few hours away. 

He couldn’t ignore the warmness in the air and the thin sheen of sweat that covered what was visible of her pallid skin. He walked over to the bedside, internally apologizing to her before putting one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her back.

“Her condition is extremely fragile!” The physician rushed to the other side of the bed in an attempt to stop him but didn’t go so far as to smack his hands away. “The lightning strike broke her ribs as well. Moving her would be disastrous!”

“If she is going to die anyway, I might as well let her die where she’ll be more comfortable.” He gathered the limp girl into his arms, making sure the thin sheet was wrapped over her body so no one could look at her, and he brought her back out of the tent. Being by the water should bring a waterbender some small comfort in their last few hours or life, even if she wasn’t conscious for it. He’d knelt by the side of dying men before and knew the best way to give them peace was to bring them back home; to ask them about what life was like in their little village, if they had family or a wife, what they did before the war and what they wanted to do when they went back. The last thoughts of a dying man should not be their pain, it should be about when they were warm and happy and surrounded by what they loved. He couldn’t bring her back to the South Pole or ask her about what it was like, but it only seemed right to get her away from the crowded hospital and the stuffy atmosphere and bring her down to the lake.

Something did seem right about it, despite the eerie appearance of the river as he walked down the abandoned and narrow dirt pathway leading down the cliffside. A dense fog had begun to gather in the valley carved out by the water, making the town floating in its center nearly invisible. He could barely even see the encampment on the top of the cliff when he was at its base. Nevertheless, he persisted onward, standing up to his waist in the water and letting it soak her. He kept her face above the lapping waves so she could breathe and internally prayed that by some miracle she was conscious enough to heal herself, but the soft glow of healing water that he’d only seen once before never came. 

What stung the most was that the last thing he’d said to her was to not disappoint him, that she was lucky to still be allowed into his army. He should have dismissed her. He should have never taken her in to begin with. She shouldn’t have had to suffer like this, and her suffering was his fault. How could he have been so careless to turn his back on his sister, to have not seen her to begin with? How could he have allowed anyone, let alone her, to get hurt because of his mistake? She shouldn’t even be here to begin with and now she was slowly slipping away like sand through his fingers. 

She was going to die never knowing that she was the only reason he was alive today, in more ways than one. She healed him, took lightning for him, and gave him the idea of redirecting it. He invented a new technique because of her brilliance and intuition.

They had sung songs about her battle with his sister, and now his people would sing songs about the great sacrifice of Kya the Southern Waterbender, dying for the Prince of the Fire Nation. She was going to die before he could thank her. She was going to die before he could figure out the way that he felt toward her.

He couldn’t put it into words, this swirling typhoon of emotions that made his stomach ill, but he knew that whatever feelings he had toward her weren't as inconsequential as he had believed. If they were, he wouldn’t feel like his own heart was stopping and shattering as he felt her skin slowly getting colder.

This was the only thing he could do for her now. He would hold her as she passed, surrounded by her element and someone who cared for her.

“Do not worry,” a sweet voice whispered to him through the mist, “she will live.”

A lithe white figure appeared out over the fog, her white dress billowing out over the river. It almost looked like she was walking on top of it as the mists oozed out of the folds in her dress. The figure looked up at him, revealing a kind face underneath her wide-brimmed hat. She looked…ethereal. Unhuman. Otherworldly.

There was something very unnerving and unnatural about this, and it was making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. This was far too realistic to be a dream, and he was fairly certain that he hadn’t fallen asleep. He could still feel the frigid water against his legs and arms; no, not dreaming. Was this a spirit? He had never seen one before; he had no idea what they even looked like.

The figure continued to approach, either unaware of his anxiety or apathetic about it. Her footsteps calmed the gentle waves of the river and her bone-colored robes gave off a soft glow akin to moonlight. “I am the spirit of this river.” The figure explained, her voice simultaneously as quiet as a whisper and loud enough to echo. “I am here for her.” 

She reached a slim hand downward, tracing a line with a thin finger from her forehead toward her stomach before opening her palm around her heart and pulling upward. The water around her body glowed softly for a brief moment, and the spirit gently waved the hand back and forth over her.

“She will awaken in two days’ time, at the new moon.” The spirit stopped her hand motion and pulled out a conical blue talisman from her flowing sleeve. “Make sure she has this when she awakens.”

“What is it?” He finally found the willpower to ask, finding his voice to be unbearably small.

“She will know what it is, and how it is used.” The spirit placed it around her neck and began to retreat, floating backward across the surface of the water into the mist.

He wanted to say something, to thank it, to ask what had just happened, but the only word that got out was “Why?”

He thought he may have seen the slightest hint of a smile across her pale painted face. “She has much more importance than you know.”

Just as mysteriously as she arrived, the body of the spirit dissolved into the nighttime mist of the lake.

The moment he was certain the spirit was gone, and when he remembered how to think again, he strode back out of the lake and up the same cliffside path as before as he retraced his steps back to the hospital.

“Your Highness.” The physician waved a hand to grab his attention as he walked back to the little room they’d given to Kya. “We, uh…” He’d probably intended on giving him some kind of update on the situation but stopped when he looked down and realized there was water dripping all over the floor with each step he took. “You’re soaking wet.”

“I know.” He replied offhandedly as found the makeshift doorway between the room dividers. He dared not remove the sheet to try and get her dry and warm, he could see from the way it clung to her skin that they had cut away her clothing away to assess the wound, so he merely set her back down in bed and motioned toward the puzzled physician standing in the doorway. “Check her vitals again.”

“Your Highness?” The physician gave him an odd look. “I’m sorry, I’ve done all I can for her, and I have other patients waiting.”

He gave him a serious glare and crossed his arms, taking a step back from her bedside to give him the room he needed to work. “Do it again.” 

The physician shrugged and sighed but did as he was ordered, putting two fingers to the side of her neck and counting the seconds with wordlessly with his lips. After a minute or so he put his head on her collarbone, watching her abdomen rise and fall with every breath. He then took one of her arms out from beneath the sheet and found her pulse again on her wrist. 

“She’s back.” He whispered, mouth gaping like a fish as he shook his head in disbelief. “The heartbeat is steady again. She’s breathing, a little shallow, but her ribs are still broken…” He let go of her wrist, letting the limp arm flop onto the bedside and peeled back the sheet enough to feel the placement of her ribs. “Yes, she still has two breaks, but the heart…it’s no longer damaged badly enough that its stuttering.”

The physician took his hands away from her body, furrowing his bushy eyebrows as he pulled the sodden sheet back over her torso. “I don’t understand how this is possible.”

Zuko realized that he himself was still soaking wet and freezing cold, at least from the waist downward. He inhaled and exhaled, drying himself off by the river water clinging to his clothing into steam with his bending. “You’re not going to believe this, but I think I just witnessed a miracle.”

He smiled to himself as poorly tried to describe what he’d seen to the man of medicine, who seemed thoroughly stupefied as he detailed the act of divine intervention from a river spirit.

* * *

He stood vigil while they cremated his sister at sunset the day following the battle. He watched as each pile of kindling was put into its proper place, watched as the sage removed her personal belongings and laid them outside of the fire with a blessing. Zuko lit the fire himself, letting the wool at the base catch first before the larger logs that supported her body. They had closed her eyes when they prepared her, something he was thankful for, because if he had to watch her eyes melt out of her head he wouldn’t have been able to do it. The orange flames rose high enough that he didn’t have to see the worst of it, but he knew how people burned. He knew how skin bubbled, cracked, and split from the heat, how it melted together like hot wax, how hair sizzled at the edges until it burned right up to the scalp like a wick. He knew that once the soft tissue was gone that the bone burned last, and that it was often the hardest to disintegrate so the fire had to be maintained constantly.

He kept the fire roaring until everything was gone, completely setting her spirit free from her mortal body and allowing the immortal piece of her to be reborn into something new while the ash was left behind. As he meditated next to he funeral pyre he realized how improper this ceremony was. She was a traitor to her nation and to the spirits that inhabit it. She wasn’t supposed to get any of this, but it felt like the right thing to do when the alternative was throwing her body into a grave to rot. He knew that if he brought her home they would forbid this, and he knew she couldn’t be buried in the catacombs with the rest of their lineage either. When the fire was finished he collected a sample of the ash, put it in a vase, collected her belongings, and informed Colonel Li that he would be gone until the following morning and that he was in charge.

Druk had been hanging around camp since the battle; he didn’t need to go looking for him. He hopped on, instructing him to go back to where it had all began, back on the island that she had failed to conquer just a month ago. The sail between the two islands may take a few days, but the flight was much quicker. He took his beast down at the hill where the green dragon had made its nest months ago, and that was where he laid his sister and her belongings to rest.

He found a suitably level rock, putting the vase in the center with a simple scroll detailing who was resting here. He put the armor she wore and her crown to the right: the only material possessions they had of hers.

“You know I can’t bring you home.” He told the vase as he knelt down to place an incense holder in front of the grave, putting two sticks in it and pinching them with his fingers to light them. “I can’t bury you with our ancestors; it’s not proper. I guess you never concerned yourself with what was proper and what wasn’t, though.”

He put down one final item that he had: a white chrysanthemum. “I know you always hated these,” he said as he put it to the left of the vase, “I remember when you used to light the ugly ones in the garden on fire when we were kids. You used to make Mom so angry…but again, you were never one of those girls that cared about pretty flowers.”

He laid out three gold coins next to the chrysanthemum as an offering to the spirits to keep her soul safe and took a deep breath. “Uncle always used to say that to be a good leader, you had to put yourself in the lowest man’s shoes with every decision. How would your actions affect others, particularly the most vulnerable people who you’re supposed to be protecting? And when I put myself in your shoes…I don’t think you did this because of vanity. You might have liked the fame, but you did it because of Father, didn’t you? Father convinced you that you weren’t good enough and pushed you into doing this; he always did that with me when he was still around. I was jealous of you for years because you had it better than I did, but now that I’m older I know you only had it better because he expected you to be better than me and you were. I guess that’s why I’m doing all of this for you, because I can’t convince myself that my sister was a bad person, that it has to be someone else’s fault.

Uncle also said that we’re responsible for the decisions we make. You could have chosen not to do all of this. But I know our father better than uncle does. He got to us young and made us the way we are. I can’t get rid of the scar he gave me, and you couldn’t get rid of the poison he put into your mind. The only difference between us is that my damage was physical, and yours wasn’t. That was how he kept you close to him; he had to use you to get what he wanted without making you realize you were being hurt. I know he couldn’t have gotten this far without you, and he must know it, too. Father was never a brilliant strategist.

People like you and I aren’t supposed to care about death. It happens every day, and there’s nothing we can do to stop most of it from happening. It’s war; people die. It’s a civil war; everyone who dies is our own. As leaders of a nation we can't be apathetic to death, but he have to realize that it happens and that our people will suffer and sometimes there's simply nothing we can do. I just…I just didn’t think I’d be having a funeral for you, to be honest. I always thought you were going to be the one to kill me and I know you thought the same, but maybe that was more of our father’s influence getting into our heads than anything else. What kind of dad pits his children against each other, convinces them that they’re destined to murder one another? Is that what things are supposed to be like in a civil war, or is our family just that fucked up? I don’t even know what I’m talking about anymore, I’m just talking…”

He bowed his head before the little altar he’d made, silencing himself from saying anything more. She never bothered listening to what he had to say when she was alive, anyway; if she were here, she would have told him to shut up by now. She wouldn’t have wanted to talk about their uncle, their father, or their mother. He hadn’t spoken to her in so long he wasn’t even sure what she would talk about. Would she want to talk about home? It had been fifteen years since she’d seen it; he had the luxury of going back every once in a while, but she hadn’t been since the war started. Would she want to talk about what things were like before the war, when they were kids and things were simple? Would she want to reminisce about being forced to wear those hot formal robes Mom used to make them put on when they had tea with the family in the gardens, or about exploring the castle together and finding little hidden passageways, or when their tutors would smack their hands when they didn’t hold chopsticks or writing brushes properly?

No, she probably wouldn’t want to talk about home. That wasn’t the kind of woman she grew into; one that reminisced about being a naïve, impressionable child. She would want to talk politics, about war strategy and philosophy. She would want to discuss the weaknesses in his attack plan, how if she’d just done this one little thing here she would have beaten him. She would want to discuss the line of succession, berate him for being so reckless with his own life without an heir, reminding him that if he died then the leadership of their nation would be thrown into chaos. She was an excellent soldier, her loyalty so intensely focused on the good of her country; she just had the wrong allegiance.

He was thirteen when the war started. She was only eleven. How could she be expected to make that kind of decision at age eleven?

“I’ll make sure they remember you. That’s what you would want, right? To be remembered for your accomplishments, not as Dad’s little toy?”

He looked toward the armor sitting beside the makeshift urn, noting the dragonscale she attached to it, and took a deep breath of the light, airy smoke.

“Leaves from the vine, falling so slow, like fragile, tiny shells, drifting in the foam. Little soldier girl, come marching home. Brave soldier girl, come marching home.”

He stayed until the incense had long burned down to the stub, until the sun set and the moon rose outside the mouth of the cave. It was the longest amount of time he’d spent with his sister alone since they were little children, and it took him a few hours before he was ready to give up the time they could still share together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m such a slut for ATLA that I can’t even write out the lyrics to Leaves from the Vine without crying 😢
> 
> If you’re American, I hope you have a happy and responsible Thanksgiving! If you’re not American, have a happy Thursday!


	14. Revive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back (again)! And I finally moved! Sorry for the 2 week hiatus, but I did give a warning. Things got crazy really quickly, and I didn’t have the time to even look at AO3 or this fic for a few days. Again, sorry for being slow with comments, but I’ll go back through and get those too. Thanks to everybody who sympathized with me and wished me luck again, you’re all the best.
> 
> Sorry not sorry for making everyone cry last chapter. Its kind of flattering knowing that what I write moves my readers that much and know that I’m right there with all of you when it comes to emotional investment. This chapter pulls at the heartstrings too and I cried a little again, so sorry not sorry (again).

* * *

Gran-Gran’s Seaweed Soup

A hearty soup to heal the things that plague the soul, including a broken heart, homesickness, or getting a fishhook stuck in your thumb.

  * Cut seaweed into strips, about the length of your little finger
  * Heat pot over cookfire. Throw in any spare bones you might have to give the broth a little extra flavor
  * Once the water is boiling throw in the seaweed, a pinch of salt, some minced gingerroot if you have it, and let it simmer.
  * Throw in a dash of sesame oil after it’s boiled for a minute if Bato remembered to trade for it; if not, you can substitute a handful of ground snowseed
  * Pour into bowls, serve with bannock. One pot serves a family of six to eight, or two Sokkas



-an excerpt from an early draft of Essentials in Southern Water Tribe Cuisine

* * *

Just like the spirit had foretold, around midnight two days after her injury, Kya stirred in her bed. Zuko sat on the corner of the room, watching, waiting, and let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in when he finally saw her hand twitch. The past two days were nerve-wracking; he visited her bedside as often as he could, but it wasn’t often enough. Over half of the buildings in the camp were completely ruined and unusable; hundreds of casualties needed to be catalogued and queried to ensure their families were properly compensated and informed; an entire supply tent with a month’s worth of rice went up in flames. War was always never-ending, and it was worse than ever now that everything was scattered and disorganized.

The list of tasks to complete was a mile long but for now none of it mattered, because Kya was alive, and she was awake. He sat on the edge of his seat and watched as her head turned to the opposite side of the pillow; her eyes stayed closed as her eyebrows knitted together. Her shaking fingers found the little blue talisman the spirit had placed around her neck and immediately grabbed for it. Unbeknownst to him there was water inside of it, and with a little flick of her wrist she undid the cap, pulled it out, and pressed it into her wound through the blanket and the wrappings around it. She gave a soft cry and her head lulled backward as the little pearl of water glowed softly before disappearing into her wound. It was over in a moment, her hand moving from a graceful bending form to resting comfortably on her stomach.

“Good evening.” He waited another beat to give away his presence, causing her to flinch slightly in the bed. It took her a minute to open her eyes, still bleary and lidded. To be blunt, she looked like hell; her curly hair mussed from days of not being washed and lying in bed, her face swollen, her eyes glassy and barely open. She didn’t speak, so he filled the silence. “Try to go back to sleep and get some rest, it’s the middle of the night.”

The waterbender followed his suggestion, reclining back on the mountain of pillows that kept her torso propped up instead of prostrate, and was unconscious again before he could get out of his seat. He needed to have a talk with her, a long talk about everything that had happened and how to thank her for it, but that could wait until later. 

In the days that followed she woke several times more, but never for long. When she finally could talk she would say the strangest things; one day asking him where she was, with a scratchy voice hoarse from dehydration and disuse.

Not knowing what else to say, he answered her honestly. “You’re in a hospital in the Fire Nation.”

She blinked at him slowly, once, twice, then laid her head back to close her eyes once more. “Good.”

How that was in any way good was lost on him, but he let it go. Three days after she woke the doctor was concerned about her spiking fever and wanted to check the wound for signs of infection. With so many injured the nurses and physicians were swamped, he offered to assist as her wound was looked over. The only thing he could really do was hand the doctor gauze when prompted or put a cold compress on her head to try and alleviate the fever. She smiled blissfully as he did so; she looked so peaceful, despite the doctor poking and prodding at her wound. He probably shouldn’t have, but he gently brushed a stray hair away that had fallen into her face, and she gave a little sigh.

“Stop that, Jet.” Was her breathy reply, barely a whisper. He recoiled his fingers from her forehead as if they were burned. He had a million questions, none of them appropriate, and none that she could answer in her current state of barely conscious but clearly delirious. To be honest, he wasn’t sure how he would have reacted if she’d gotten the name right, or if he would have reacted with any less fervor.

The doctor seemed far less concerned than he was. “It’s not unexpected.” He’d stated plainly with a shrug when he voiced his concerns after his work was finished. “Between the fever, the opium, the dehydration and hunger, smoke inhalation…she might have even hit her head during the fight.”

A doctor listing off hundreds of things wrong with her did nothing to help calm his nerves. He’d been so focused on seeing her awake he hadn’t stopped to consider how long and torturous her recovery from this would be. After a week had passed since her injury she started to remain conscious for longer stretches of time. Talking was still difficult, but she was able to find her words and understand that she needed to eat and drink. She couldn’t get anything in besides jook and tea, her arms barely strong enough to lift a bowl, but it was enough to keep her sustained. 

“Where am I?” She asked a second time with her hands cradling a bowl of porridge as he dined with her on the opposite side of the room.

“You’re in a hospital in the Fire Nation,” he answered as he picked at the bowl of noodles in his lap as he ate in tandem with her.

“Yes, but where.” She asked again, clutching onto the bowl in her hands a little more tightly.

“You’re on the island of Izu, in the Eastern Isles, right next to the town of Jang Hui.”

She looked directly at him and asked earnestly, “Is it safe here?”

“It’s perfectly safe here,” he reassured her, “You have nothing to worry about.”

She begrudgingly lifted the bowl in her hands to her mouth to eat, her hands still too shaky for chopsticks or a spoon. “Ok.”

“How are you feeling?” he asked, trying to keep her talking.

She knitted her eyebrows together and kept the warm bowl close to her chest. “Cold.”

He could see from here that she was sweating, a few beads of it on her forehead and upper lip. The worst of her fever had broken, but the doctor insisted it be checked again every few hours to make sure it was still going down. He could warm her up but it would be bad for her health, so he told her instead, “You’re from the South Pole, you should be used to it.”

She made a pained face and set the bowl aside to get back under the blankets. She mumbled something quietly to herself, but all he caught was some rendition of ‘no’.

“You really should try and eat something,” he tried to chide her, but it fell on deaf ears as she lost consciousness again.

After she woke, he visited so often that her bedside became his makeshift office. He had his own tent, but after days on inventorying what was left of camp, he decided to give the space to men whose own tents were burned in the attack. They were far too deep into enemy territory to request additional supplies and expect them to be there quickly, and he would rather sleep on a chair in the hospital than sleep in his own bed while his men slept in the dirt. After four nights it was beginning to kill his neck, but that was nothing his morning stretches and meditations couldn’t resolve. She was almost never awake, so he never feared his work would disturb her.

Another intelligence report came as a courier ducked his head into the little room. He cracked the basic seal and untied the twine.

_Prince Zuko,_

_Congratulations on your victory against Princess Azula. We achieved victory against Admiral Hao. Enemy naval forces in retreat._

_Admiral Jeong-Jeong_

Always curt and to the point. Despite the good news and the short length, the words have begun to blur together in his vision. It’s time that he rested, too, but he scrawled out a quick letter and had the courier send it away.

_Admiral Jeong-Jeong,_

_Excellent news. Need extra tents, medical supplies, and food urgently if you can spare._

_Prince Zuko_

* * *

Katara felt like every time she woke he was sitting there, in the little chair across from her bed. Truthfully, it was hard to really tell; consciousness and memory were so hazy, the line between awake and asleep muddled and incomprehensible. Sometimes she can remember what they’d spoken about, and sometimes she couldn’t even remember that he’d visited at all.

Healing was not a linear process, either. She caught a bad fever again one night that she couldn’t seem to shake. She was shivering and boiling all at once, going back and forth between the two like someone flicking a coin through their fingers. He was there for that, too. He sat at her bedside, in the middle of the night, and showed her firebending tricks to distract her. He’d snap and make a flame appear on the tip of his finger, then touch his fingertip to the finger on the opposite hand to transfer it over. He’d pretend to grab it and throw it from his hand to the candle on the other side of the room, then he’d wave a hand and snuff it out.

“Who taught you that?” She asked.

“My uncle.” He said with a smile. He cupped the flame in his hand, put some kind of powder in it, and made his fire turn the brightest shade of royal purple she had ever seen.

She couldn’t even tell if it was a dream or not, but she decided that if it was a dream it was a very nice one because he was smiling. She couldn’t ever remember him looking remotely happy in any way; it almost looked wrong, like the time she found him wandering after dark with his hair down and without armor. He held the purple flames close enough to his face that she could marvel at the way it dappled against his inky black hair, how strikingly the light accentuated the angular set of his jaw, and she could note the little lines that bordered his mouth and crinkled around his eyes that couldn’t possibly be from an excess of smiling.

She blinked and suddenly it was daytime, and light was streaming through the thin fabric that separated her room from the outside. Days would go by like this, or at least, she thought it was days: she would be awake sometime when the sun was up, take a nap, and wake again when the sun was gone. When she was conscious for more than five minutes the physician would give her an examination and ask a few questions before a nurse would pass her a bowl of jook and some tea. More often then not she would eat and then sleep again.

Visitors besides the doctors and Zuko were allowed in two weeks after the initial injury, so she made the request. Everyone told her she should be sleeping as much as she possibly could, but she was beginning to grow restless from the lack of activity, even if moving and talking still hurt.

“Good to see you awake.” On Jin said with a small smile as she shuffled into her little room. “You gave us quite a scare.”

“How are you feeling?” Miki asked as she found a place for herself to stand, worriedly combing her fingers together.

“Everything hurts,” she told them honestly, “even breathing hurts.”

“Just keep resting and you’ll feel better,” On Jin told her, “Right now, you just need to eat and rest.”

“That’s what everyone else keeps saying.” She noticed the cast around her friend’s hand and pointed at it. “What happened to you?”

“Oh.” On Jin lifted it up, showing her the wooden splint held in place by gauze. “I broke a finger and sprained my wrist when we fought Azula together. She popped my shoulder out of its socket too, but that was a quicker fix.” Her friend slowly put the arm down by her side. “It’ll be fine, just needs time to heal.”

“We fought Azula?” Her friend nodded. “I guess I must have hit my head; I don’t really remember.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” she gave her another smile, “I barely remember it, too. Everything about that night is a blur.”

There was something else in this room out of place, and it embarrassed her that had taken so long to figure out. “Where’s Yun?”

The two girls quickly looked at one another, and her stomach dropped.

“She’ll be fine.” Miki’s voice shook as she strode over to her bedside. “Her tent caught fire when we were being attacked and it fell on her shoulder. She was burned very badly, but she’s starting to make a recovery. No, don’t you dare.” The girl warned as she shoved her back into bed by her shoulders when she made a move to get up. “You were closer to death than she was, ok? So just lie down; you can’t do anything for her.”

“I want to help,” she weakly tried to reason, but she was in no shape to properly fight with her friend.

On Jin walked over. “She’s made it through the worst of it and she’s starting to come out the other side. The best thing you can do for her is get better yourself.”

“But—”

“No,” she said sternly, almost angrily, “you’re exhausted and you can barely get out of bed as it is.” The girl sighed, looking down at the floor. “I know you want to help, we all do, but we need to leave it to her physician, ok?”

She didn’t respond, half angry that no one told her about this until now, and half disappointed that she was too weak to help someone that needed her. If she was burned that badly there might be nothing she could do, but she at least could look at it. It would reveal herself as a healer to her friends, but at this point she didn’t care. What was the point of being a healer if you couldn’t help the people who you cared about?

“Another thing.” Miki stuffed a hand into her pocket. “Your tent didn’t burn down in the fire, so I managed to save your stuff. I found this in there?” She pulled out her mother’s necklace, a little sooty, but unharmed. “I’ve never seen you wear it, but it looks valuable. Do you want it?”

“Yes, please.” She reached out and let the cold pendant fall into her palm. “Can you guys stop by again tomorrow morning again? I really missed you, but I’m really tired now.”

“Of course,” On Jin nodded, “Get some rest; it’s pretty late.”

The two said their goodnight’s and quietly left her little room. When she was finally alone again, she spent the little strength she had left after having a conversation to run her thumb along the engravings of her necklace and close her eyes.

_Hi Mom,_

_It’s been a while since we’ve spoken. I’m sorry that I haven’t written sooner. I think I was afraid to; that to get over it I needed to forget it and try to move on with my life the best I could. But when you’re hurting, you just miss your momma and the seaweed soup she always made when you were sick as a kid._

_You always used to tell me stories when I was little of people who became the stars when they died. I don’t know if you’re up there, among the stars, but I just wanted to write to you and say ‘thank you’ if you were looking down on me when I got hurt. Everyone here seems surprised I survived it at all._

_It’s times like these when I remember how you always looked out for me when you were here; you kissed every scraped knee and dried away all the tears. I miss you now more than ever; now that I’m injured in a foreign country and everything hurts and my memory is fuzzy. I miss you and everyone so, so much. And I know crying about it is only going to make me feel worse and won’t help me get better, but I just can’t help it. I just wish you—_

“Do you need me to get the doctor?”

She had to blink to get the tears away from her eyes, her head still too hazy to be able to tell right away who the quiet voice belonged to.

“No.” She replied, slightly embarrassed from crying in front of Zuko, the stoic, damned Prince of the Fire Nation, of all people. She quickly used the other hand to swipe away the mess on her face. “No, it’s fine, you can come in.”

“That’s a pretty necklace.” He pointed to the one in her hand, hesitantly sitting down at the chair across from her bedside.

She ran her hand along the engravings for the millionth time at the mention of it, not having the strength to look at it. “It was my mother’s.”

He cast his gaze down to his folded hands on his lap. “Oh.” She didn’t need to say anymore, and she was very thankful for it. She didn’t even know if she had it in her to give him the explanation. “Right after I got this,” he tapped to the scar on his left eye, “my mother left. I never saw her again.”

“Oh. Is she…gone?”

“I don’t know.” His voice sounded thin and he made an oddly contemplative face as he folded his hands together in his lap. “Azula’s dead. I don’t know if anyone told you yet.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think I remember being told she died.”

“Druk killed her, after…” he gestured vaguely toward her. She still couldn’t remember getting the injury, but she remembered enough to know who gave it to her. He sighed heavily, sagging his shoulders, and stood up to leave but stayed frozen on the spot. She could see a muscle jumping in his jaw as he clenched it and unclenched it, like he wanted to say something but just couldn’t spit it out. “You’re going through a very painful process.” He turned over to her when he found the words. “You probably feel like you have to do it alone. You don’t. You have people here that want to help. If you need anything, even if it’s just to talk about it, don’t be afraid to ask.”

She ran her finger around the carvings once again and looked down at the turquoise-colored pendant. “There is something, actually. It’s a little childish…” She used her free hand to rub the last vestiges of tears away from her eyes, partly in an attempt to wake up and partly to make sure her face was clean before she asked her question. “I’m getting tired of eating jook, and I would really appreciate some soup right now. Even plain broth, if they have it.”

She was too exhausted, both physically and emotionally, to realize the implications of asking the Fire Prince to do a servant’s task like fetching her a bowl of soup. It was probably considered extremely rude here to even ask, let alone expecting him to actually do it despite what he’d just said.

Instead of berating her or even acknowledging the significance of it, he gave her a little nod. “I’ll get two, so you don’t have to eat alone.”

That was how she spend the rest of the evening, with a bowl of warm broth and a pot of jasmine tea, eating with company. He didn’t ask about her mother or her family any further, and she didn’t ask about his. It wasn’t the homemade meal she was craving, but it had just enough seaweed in it to pretend. And, for the first time since before her injury, when she woke up the next morning, she could remember every word and every detail from the day before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the love language of soup. Classic hurt/comfort.
> 
> BTW, the purple fire trick…you can do that if you burn potash, which is in most fertilizers. Or you could get the same effect using copper and strontium salts, which is how they make purple fireworks. All are fairly common chemicals that you can buy, but please don’t go around setting random chemicals or fertilizer on fire just to see what happens.
> 
> If everything smooths out I'll try and go back to regular updates. Not sure what day or time yet, but I'll shoot for once a week. See yall then!
> 
> -nein


	15. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof I had like, major writer’s block with this chapter for some reason, so I’m sorry if it feels a little disjointed. It’s also long, lol. A lot of the chapters from here on out will be around this length (5,000 ish words compared to 3,500 ish words). There’s just a lot that needs to be said; what can you do?
> 
> Wanna put up a TW for mentions of suicide in this one. It’s in the background, but it gets brought up a few times throughout the chapter. If that really bothers you then skip the second segment, but it's kinda plot relevant to know, so I'll put it in the end notes.

* * *

As a child, my mother would always read me those old Fire Nation scrolls of princes and princesses who fell in love. How the prince would wear gilded armor and ride a dragon and save the fair princess, locked away in a tower by an evil sorceress, and about how they fell in love as soon as they saw how beautiful and courageous and kind one another were. Mom would always emphasize how untrue those were; that it was a fairytale and, no, a handsome Earth Kingdom prince wouldn’t dash in and rescue me from my math lessons. She insisted that love at first site was a nonsensical concept as well; getting to know, she said, is how you fall in love, no matter if you’re talking about a good friend or the love of your life.

-an excerpt from the personal memoir of Princess Izumi

* * *

“You want me to help you put on your necklace?” Miki asked, pointing to it on the little table at her bedside.

Katara’s two healthy friends dutifully came again the next morning. The two hadn’t told her the night before, but the news of her injury and recovery spread through the camp and the island like wildfire. The local townsfolk came out in droves to the river to throw in offerings to the spirits and had refurbished a small shrine in the center of their village. With the enemy’s army recently defeated, many soldiers had the time to visit to the riverbank in search of its supposed healing properties as well, throwing in coins and fruit and flowers in an offering for the great river spirit.

None had dared visit her directly. Her access to visitors was still restricted, and few could get past the dutiful physicians and nurses who sought to keep her hidden away so she could heal. However, that didn’t stop people from bringing her gifts as well; her friends had collected the few moonpeaches and copper coins left outside her door and placed them on her bedside table.

“Oh, no.” She awkwardly waived off her friend’s offer as her eyes stopped momentarily on the blue pendant, nestled next the pile of coins. “That would be really inappropriate.”

“How do you mean?”

She looked back over at the blue pendant and traced circles with her fingers along her blanket. “In the Water Tribe, necklaces are given by men to their suitors. So, if you put a necklace on me—”

“Got it.” Her friend said sternly with a slight smile. “I was wondering why we never saw you wearing it.”

“Why do you have a necklace, then?” On Jin asked.

“It’s a family heirloom,” she explained, “it belonged to my mother. She’s gone now; that’s all I have left of her.”

“Oh.” On Jin’s voice was riddled with concern. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s ok.” She tried to shake it off and change the subject. “Uh, did I tell you guys I was actually engaged at one point?”

“No?” Miki sat forward on her seat, intrigued. “What happened?”

“Well,” she looked down at the blanket on her legs again and tried to find the best way to tell the story, “It was to an Air Nomad. He was very sweet. He came to visit my tribe every year after I turned eighteen. He liked me first, and…well, after about a year or so I liked him back. We really thought we were going to end up together, but then the war happened…anyway, it didn’t work out. He didn’t make me a necklace, so we were never official, but…that’s that.”

“Sounds like an ass,” Miki mumbled under hear breath, then louder, “What kind of guy proposes, doesn’t want to show off his fiancée to anybody, and then dumps her when the fighting starts? Someone who’s not husband material, that’s who.”

She smiled to herself despite knowing what she said was completely inaccurate to what really happened between her and Aang, but she knew Miki was trying to make her feel better. 

“Well,” Miki said again, “if you won’t let me do your necklace, can I do your hair? It looks like an elephant-rat’s nest, no offense.”

“None taken. I can’t lift my arms behind my head to brush it, it still hurts too much.”

“Oh, honey,” On Jin gave her a sympathetic frown, “I think I still remember how you braided my hair for the New Year, you want us to try that?”

She chewed on her lip and smiled. “Sure.”

On Jin left to fetch her comb; a particularly fine one with a handle of abalone, a gift from her mother. Katara endured the sharp pain in her skull as the thousands of knots that had accumulated in her curls were freed, and she looked in disdain at how much hair has come loose and clumped to the base of the comb. Of course the two couldn't stop there; Miki fetched a washbowl and the persimmon and lavender shampoo she bought for the New Year. It felt divine to finally wash and comb out the unruly mess her hair had become, and she quickly became addicted to the feel of fingers running through it as it was washed and plaited. There was little On Jin could do with her dominant hand still on the mend, but she did her best to assist. The two got it wrong a few times, forgetting how to cross the strands and nearly knotting her hair even worse than it was before, but when they finished she felt like a hundred years of dirt and grime had been lifted away. It was something she didn’t know she needed to feel better until it was done.

Even long after they left her to go about their own business, she couldn’t stop running her hands down the neat braid, feeling the knots and twining her fingers around the little scrap of red fabric they used to tie it. She almost felt like her old self again, except without the twin loops on either side of her face.

Zuko was the next to visit, around midday. With a gracious emergency shipment of rations and tents from an admiral stationed nearby, the camp was working well enough that he had his own office and bedroom back. His visits were far less frequent than his perpetual stay in the chair across from her bedside, but they were still just as welcome to break up the monotony.

“Hey,” she said as he entered the room, putting her thumb underneath the conical necklace she’d woken up with, “I’ve been meaning to ask you about this. Where did you get it?”

“Oh, that.” He kept his eyes fixed on it as he sat down in his usual place. “When I brought you down to the lake, the spirit that healed you gave you that.”

She looked down at the little vial in her hand. “Did you know what this was?”

He shrugged. “Some kind of healing water?”

She couldn’t help but grimace. “Yes, it is healing water; it’s been blessed by the moon and ocean spirits. I guess you must have seen me use it.”

“I did,” he admitted, “but I already knew you could do that.”

“Really?” The only time she’d let it slip was when she talked to him about bloodbending, but that was very different from healing yourself with water. “How?”

He suddenly looked extremely mischievous, leaning back as he smirked and crossed his arms. “Don’t worry about it. It’ll be our little secret.”

She didn’t really like the idea of having secrets with someone who phrased it like that. Perhaps it was her muddled mind, but that sounded highly suspicious. She frowned as she examined the engravings on the vial in her hand, and then she realized where she’d heard that exact phrase before: her own mouth.

“You!” She gaped, snapping her head back up to stare at him.

“Please don’t tell the other generals, I’ll lose my position.” He tried to hide his joy by folding his hands over his mouth to hide a smile.

“I…what…” She didn’t even know how to articulate the multitude of questions she had. 

“Oh, right. I almost forgot the reason I came in here.” He stood up, suddenly much more serious than before, and stood over by her bed. “Get up.”

She blinked. “What?”

“Get up out of bed.” He nodded toward the door. “We’re putting that skill to good use.”

She frowned. “I can barely walk and you want me to go out there and heal people?”

He huffed and rolled his eyes. “Just get up. I’ll make sure you don’t fall.”

She begrudgingly ripped the sheet off herself, flashing him a glare before swinging her legs to one side of the bed. She eased her weight onto her toes, then her heels, until she was standing with her hands supporting herself on the bed. Her legs still felt as wobbly as a newborn otterpenguin, but she’d had the strength to walk around her little room for a few days now.

“Just…if you need help,” he awkwardly stood next to her, “I can lend you a hand.”

She tried her best not to scoff. “How are you going to help,” she snapped when finally stood on her own, “You’re a head taller than I am.”

He didn’t respond, but she found the answer out the hard way when she tried to take a few confident steps on her own and ended up stumbling when a sharp pain stabbed at her midsection. She instantly crumpled, wrapping an arm around her aching rib and breathing only in her upper body as to not exacerbate it.

But she didn’t fall. He put a stern hand around her shoulder and kept her on her feet. “Put your hand on my shoulder,” he said quietly, "to keep yourself up."

“I can’t, it hurts.”

“Then just— there.” Her arm found his midsection, the highest she could reach, and she tried to hold on tight enough to support her weight. “Is that ok?”

“Fine.”

“Good.”

It took a minute to figure out how to walk like this, with the injured side of her body glued to another person, and her face felt like it was on fire. It was beyond embarrassing, not being able to walk in front of a man she’d beaten in combat before, . She didn’t dare look at him as he helped her hobble through the thin hallway of the hospital, and by some miracle he didn’t look at her either. There were no more clipped, awkward words. He led her to another private room on the far end and pulled the flap on the door aside. There was one bed in it, like her room, with one occupant.

“Kya!” Yun’s face lit up as soon as she came in the room. She got out of her bed with her good arm, the bad one still wrapped in gauze and in a sling to heal. “It’s so good to see you!”

Her mouth fell open, and she hobbled over the best she could to her friend as the two embraced in an awkward hug; her not being able to make her arms go higher than her friend’s shoulders, and her friend only having one arm to work with.

“I’m going to leave this in here.” Her attention was drawn back to Zuko, who held up a canteen for her before setting that down on a small table. “I’ll stand outside the door and make sure you’re not disturbed.” He gave the two a nod and opened the flap on the door to let himself out.

Her friend turned back to her, confused. “What was that about?”

“Lay back down on the bed for me.” She instructed her friend as she grabbed the canteen. She unscrewed the lid and bended the water into her hand like a glove.

“I really appreciate you trying to cheer me up,” Yun said as she pulled the cover back over herself, “but you don’t need to do fancy waterbending tricks. I don’t want you to wear yourself out.”

“I think you’ll like this trick.” She assured her friend, grabbing a chair and pulling it to the side of the bed. “I want to take a look at your shoulder.”

Yun scrunched her eyebrows together and looked at it. “The doctor says I can’t take the wrappings off yet.” 

“It’s ok, you don’t need to take them off. Tell me to stop if it hurts.” Without any further protest, she pressed the water into the girl’s injured shoulder. She squeaked with surprise as cold water seeped into the wrapping, then sighed and rolled her head back onto the pillow.

“What are you doing?” She asked, sighing from the pleasure of it. “It feels amazing.”

“I’m healing it.” She explained, unable to contain herself from smiling as her friend sighed at her touch. “I have healing abilities, too.”

“You mean, you could do this the whole time and you didn’t tell me?” Her friends face split with a grin, despite the accusation. “Why didn’t you do this when I cut my foot on a rock when we were bathing that one time? It bled for like, an hour.”

“It bled for, like, five minutes.” She giggled as she scanned the water up to where her shoulder met her neck. “You have a little spot of infection here; I’m going to clear it out. It might sting a little.”

“That spot’s been itching me for two days.” Her friend pointed to it with her free hand. “Do you have any idea how maddening it’s been to not be able to scratch it?”

Laughing too hard would aggravate her bruised and broken ribcage, so she forced herself to merely smile as they caught up and joked around. She took her time parsing through the burned flesh of her friend’s shoulder and arm; it was certainly going to scar. If she’d gotten to it sooner she might have been able to prevent that, but the burn was extremely deep. She had to work outward, treating the burned muscle first before encouraging the blood vessels and nerves in the skin to regrow. With luck, Yun would still be able to use her shoulder normally in time, although it was going to be stiff and sore for many months.

She worked until her own wound started to hurt, and she left Yun to rest and recuperate after the healing session.

“Thanks.” She said as she found Zuko again, still standing by the door, and she put an arm back around his body for support.

“I might have yelled at your friends after I saw them leaving your room; I figured they’d upset you.” He softly admitted as he put his hand on her shoulder again. “They told me you seemed upset after hearing she was hurt. I figured it would cheer you up a little.”

She almost wanted to cry again from sheer gratitude, but she was too tired. She thanked him once again, snuggling underneath the thin blanket and letting her head lull back on the pillows.

* * *

“Sir, this came for you.” The messenger handed him a scroll, the blue dragon seal indicating it was from the Fire Lord. News of the twin victories had spread far quickly it seemed, if his uncle was already writing back to him about it. It had been a mere twenty days since the island was taken, and only about ten since his father's navy was defeated. Zuko, finally back into his old routine of keeping to his business in his private office, cracked the wax in two and unfurled the scroll to read the elegant characters of his uncle’s handwriting.

_Prince Zuko,_

_You have no doubt heard of the naval victory we received in tandem with your own in Jang Hui. Your father split his navy to combat both your transport to Izu and Admiral Jeong-Jeong’s attack, leaving the capital relatively unguarded from the sea. We secured it with minimal resistance; the majority of fighting men were likely thrown your way when you defeated Azula and her forces on Izu. Once the capital city was taken, word was given to us from the palace that your father committed suicide to avoid capture and defeat. He was found dead in his chambers. There is no word yet on your mother; she was not present alongside your father nor was she found at your father’s court. I am sorry I cannot tell you more._

_I am ordering you and your men to return to the capital. Your father’s forces are broken amongst the few remaining vessels in the fleet and the few divisions scattered across the other Eastern Isles. With the death of Ozai and Azula, they have no leader. Our presence in the ruined capital has so far ensured that no one in his court will rise up to take his place, and he had no other family to follow in his stead. The time has come to disband his military forces, restructure the nation for peacetime, and formulate appropriate punishment for the rebels. I need you home to aid me in this task._

_You have been at war for far too long, and I haven’t seen you since your lightning mastery exam a year and a half ago! It is intensely unfair that your youth has been stolen from you because of your father’s greed. I look forward to making up the lost time with you after you arrive back home. I cannot wait to have an impartial palate to give the tea blends I have been working on; I know you’ll be more honest with me than the maids and servants. You’re also the only man in the capital now that can give me a run for my money at Pai Sho, although I know you never had as much of a taste for it as I did._

_Write to me again when you are sailing back so I can prepare for your return._

_Safe travels,_

_Your uncle_

The last paragraph made him smile in reminiscence, but his mind was stuck on the fact that his mother appeared to be missing. He expected his father to kill himself, or at the very least, go out in some grand blaze of glory. He would rather die than be captured and imprisoned or go into exile and admit defeat, and he was far too proud to go by any other hand than his own. If there was even a slim chance of winning Ozai would have fought, but if he ended his life then the war must be well and truly over. 

But where was his mother? He drummed a free hand against the polished wood of his desk, listening to the rapping noise of his nails on the mahogany. He didn’t have any high-ranking prisoners of his fathers to interrogate about her; the best way to find out would be to go home and ask around during the peace talks. He had always prepared for her to be dead, but from the way his uncle worded the letter it would appear as though she vanished. Perhaps her disappearance was his father’s final jab to him and his uncle; his last petty action to try and win one over on them. 

Now more than ever, he wished that he could talk to his sister and just ask her. She wouldn’t tell him the truth, and it probably wouldn’t make him feel any better, but at least it would be something. If he’d captured her alive she might give him a shred, a vague lead to send him on some wild elephant-goose chase around the Fire Nation. He wasn’t sure if he’d prefer that to this or not, but there was nothing he could do about that now. He pulled out a blank scroll and dipped his brush into the inkwell.

_Uncle,_

_The end of the war is excellent news, although I suspect you’re more excited that you have another poor soul to force your tea brews into and a fresh Pai Sho player to beat. As soon as our injured soldiers are safe to travel, we will set sail for the capital._

_I will need some of the villas renovated before my arrival; I am bringing home a few soldiers deserving of titles. I will discuss the nature of their accolades with you later to determine the appropriate reward, but in the meantime, tell the staff at the palace to have Nasu, Atami, and Hayama prepared. The most pressing is Atami; I am placing the waterbender I acquired there. During my battle with Azula, my sister almost hit me with lightning while my back was turned. I would have been killed if the waterbender did not take the hit for me. She is recovering well, but the initial injury nearly cost her life._

_I will do some investigating into the whereabouts of my mother when I arrive back at the capital. Please send me any news on her when you get it._

_Zuko_

After sealing the letter and sending it off, he figured he’d tie up one loose end that needed his attention. He told a servant to fetch two meals and have them sent to Kya’s room.

“I figured you’d be getting tired of broth and jook.” He explained as his servant handed her the bowl of steamed buns and rice with a pair of bamboo chopsticks. “It’s officers mess; its not much better than yours, but I figured it’s still better.”

She curiously took the twin chopsticks in her hands, holding them completely incorrectly as she examined the tapered tips. “I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone here this, but we don’t use chopsticks back home. The first time I used them was after I left, and I thought it was ridiculous that the entire rest of the world didn’t pick up steamed buns with your hands. They fit perfectly in your hand; why not?” She flashed him a teasing smile and raised her eyebrows before putting down the utensil and picking up one of the buns between her fingers.

“You eat like a child.” He admonished her as he watched her take a bite out of it, but he couldn’t find any animosity in his heart for someone who was so blatantly being rude around the Crown Prince of the Fire Nation. It was, in fact, a little endearing to watch. “Don’t tell me you’re going to pick out every grain of rice in the bowl with your fingernails next.”

She chuckled, putting a hand over her mouth to try and keep from being even more rude. “Can I ask you…” she trailed off as she swallowed her food, removing the hand from over her mouth so she could speak properly. “Why do you wear the mask?”

He silently thanked her for not blurting it out with his servant just outside the room and going for the allusion instead. “I will,” he pointedly picked up his own chopsticks like a normal person, “if you tell me why you said what you said the night I wore it.”

“There’s not really much to say.” She’d gotten a little of the filling on her forefinger, and promptly put it in her mouth to suck it off. “I was afraid if you knew, then I’d get confined to the healing tent. That’s how it is for a lot of girls in the Water Tribes: they train us to heal instead of fight. I was trained in it a little, but I’d hardly consider myself great at it, and it’s never been what I was most interested in.”

“That’s understandable,” he mulled it over as he started his own meal, “but you should know that you have a great gift. You shouldn’t worry about hiding it.”

She gave him a coy smile in return. The conversation and the meal was doing her good. “That’s a bit hypocritical.”

“I started when I was fifteen, before I joined the army,” he finally relented, “Even if I was too young to fight, I still went to all of the war council meetings. We found out one of the nobleman on the main island was secretly conspiring against us to support my father. The Fire Lord agreed to not reprimand him for it and to feed him false information instead; the council didn’t want to keep splitting our allies, and this one in particular had a lot of power. But they were letting a wound fester and people were getting hurt because he was still actively spying for my father, even without all the information. So, I took matters into my own hands.”

“What happened?”

“He committed suicide.” He was too nervous to kill him in cold blood, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. Instead of slitting his throat in his sleep, he smothered him and hung him by the neck to make it look inconspicuous. “After that, I realized there were a lot of situations in war that required delicacy. You can’t always go barging in with an army. Sometimes, you just need one person removed quietly and things become a lot better.”

“How does anyone even know about you, then? If the first guy was labeled as a suicide and our guy was labeled as a mutiny victim?”

“I did it a lot more when I was a teenager.” He rubbed the back of his neck when he remembered what he was like at that age. “I was really angry about the war, about my family, and that I couldn’t really do anything because I was still too young. I guess all sixteen-year-olds get angry about something…anyway, I was spotted once or twice by patrols in the capital because I didn’t know how to evade them well enough. Never caught, just seen. It was enough to start the rumors. Although,” he touched his hip on the place where he’d been stabbed that night, “I think I’m officially going to retire after the last one got botched.”

“That’s understandable.” She finished off one of the buns by stuffing the last of it in her mouth. “I really appreciate you keeping the secret and not making a big deal out of it. You didn’t have much of a reason to trust me after you knew I’d been keeping something from you.”

“Of course I had a reason; I’d be dead if you hadn’t stepped in. The least I could do was respect your wish for anonymity.”

He didn’t think much of it when the words came out of his mouth, but she paused stuffing her face for a moment to gaze off into the distance. Her face softened as she looked back down at her food. “Well,” she said quietly, “thank you. Again.”

“I have some good news.” He said, changing the subject when he remembered why he went here in the first place. “The war’s over. I just received word that my father is dead and his court is disbanded. We’re going home.”

Her face lifted, giving him a little smile. “That’s great news. I thought everyone seemed happier this afternoon.”

“I just received the official word a few hours ago, I guess its still slowly circulating. This does, of course, bring us back to the discussion we had at the beginning of the year.”

She finally picked up her chopsticks and started attacking the bowl of rice. “What’s that?”

“About your situation,” he clarified, “I asked my uncle to prepare one of the villas next to the palace for your arrival. I’ll discuss your accomplishments with him so the two of us can determine an appropriate reward and title for you, if you’ll still have it.”

“I will,” she said quickly, “But what exactly does that entail?”

“Well, you can choose to stay there for the rest of your life if you wish. You’ll have a handful of servants to keep it maintained. The money to fund it will come from the royal family; the villas are used to house our extended family and our guests. Or, alternatively, you could stay there for a time until the Fire Lord and I can find you some land to rule, probably either here or on one of the adjacent islands. Staying in the capital would mean you’re closer to national politics, if you’d like to get into that, but you won’t have land or people to preside over.”

She nodded, mulling it over as she took a few more bites of rice. “So, what exactly would I do while I’m in my villa?”

“It’s your house, all you have to do is live there. Servants will worry about the cooking and cleaning and going down to the market to fetch whatever you need. Take some time to get back to your full strength and we can go from there.”

She smiled into her meal. “Thanks. For everything. It’s been years since I’ve had a place to call home.”

He would never admit how heartbreaking that sounded, especially coming from her. “It’s a shame that you were put in such an unfortunate situation. I hope you can find comfort in the Fire Nation after years of hardship.”

“So,” she paused to swallow a mouthful, “You must be excited to go home? And that the war’s over?”

He set his food aside for the time being. “My nation has been at war for almost sixteen years. It’ll be sixteen years on the day in less than a month. That’s the majority of my lifetime. It feels…almost odd. Not in a bad way, though; I just can’t quite fully comprehend living during peace.”

“That’s a shame, too.” She put her chopsticks on the rim of the bowl and set it aside. “Our conflict was far shorter and had a heavy impact on my people, but at least our babes don’t become adults during conflict.”

He shook his head. “Tom-Tom’s situation left a bad taste in my mouth. I’m sure there’s a handful of seventeen-year-olds who lied about their age to join my army, but drafting boys at fifteen is monstrous.”

“He’s a good kid, but when they’re that young they don’t even know the difference between right and wrong yet. They don’t have the chance to decide what they want to fight for.”

He looked down at his hands. “I didn’t get that luxury either; neither did my sister. My father decided I was a liability, so he left me behind. He saw her as useful, so he took her.” He quickly looked back up at her. “My apologies, you probably don’t want to hear about Azula.”

She pursed her lips for a minute. “What…was she always like that? She looked really bad in the end. Was she always that bad?”

“No,” he said honestly, “even when we were children, she was the symbol of a perfect princess, physically and mentally. At ten she had the sharpest tongue and mind in court. My guess is that something must have made her crack after all the pressure. But that’s all in the past; our father chose to spill his guts instead of facing the consequences of his actions, and my sister is dead. What matters now is that we can move past all of this and look forward to a happy future.”

“Well, you certainly have a lot to look forward to.” She nodded toward him.

“Yes,” he said slowly, finally noticing how much brighter her eyes looked than from just a few days prior. “I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet yall didn't expect Ozai to kill himself, huh!
> 
> My thoughts on this are Zuko's thoughts, essentially. Ozai was prideful and stubborn; no way was he going to willingly hand himself over to a life of imprisonment or allow Iroh to have him beheaded for treason. I always headcannon that in the original story, he would have rather died than have a twelve-year-old take his bending away so he could live in in a squalid prison for the rest of his life.


	16. Fire Lord Iroh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We hit the 500 kudos, 100 bookmarks, and 11k hits marks when I wasn’t looking 🤩 I honestly can’t believe how much love this story has gotten, and we’re only just over halfway through! Thank each and every single one of you for giving this a read and your love; thank you to all of the people who left wonderful comments as well. I’ll always been so surprised at how awesome the Zutara fandom is; you guys never fail to make me happy.
> 
> I try and keep self-promotions to a minimum, but this is [my tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/neincraff/) if you want to give me a follow. I’m not super involved in the fandom besides what I write, but if you’re a cool atla page I’ll give you a follow back. I kinda need some new mutuals to be tbh.

* * *

Fire Lord Iroh (Jinki 59-Taisho 31) had a reign marked both by warfare and strife, but also kindness and gentility. Historians who have studied the civil war during his reign agree that he was not the one to instigate it and that he never wished for glory or power. Fire Lord Iroh became a figurehead in the war because he could not let his brother win; not because he clung to his birthright and privilege like a child to its mother, but because he feared of the monstrous actions his brother would take if he was allowed to rule unrestrained over the entire nation. Many who knew him personally had nothing but good things to say about his demeanor, how he was a kind and benevolent Fire Lord, but he was also known for being a cunning military leader. Although his brother Ozai had more land and men in his army at the start of the conflict, Iroh had a greater aptitude for strategy, which ultimately allowed his fledgling reign to survive in the earliest years of the civil war.

-an excerpt from Military History of the Fire Nation: Prominent Leaders and Conflicts that Shaped the Nation

* * *

The end of the war was a time for celebration. The news slowly percolated through camp and, eventually, the natives on the island over the course of a week. Although Katara couldn’t partake in the bawdy celebrations she heard outside her room every night, she joined them in spirit. As she continued to get stronger, she continued to heal her friend. Yun’s wound was making progress, and the doctors deemed it safe enough to remove the bandages after a week of healing sessions. The scar looked garish, pink and wrinkled flesh reaching from her bicep to the base of her neck, but with physical therapy and poultice it would continue to diminish.

The same admiral who had given them emergency supplies organized their transport back to the capital, around ten days after the initial announcement. By that time she was steady enough on her feet to walk around, albeit slowly and carefully. It had been almost a month since the battle, which had given the majority of the seriously injured the time they needed to survive a journey back home. None stayed behind to keep the peace on the island; every fighting man and woman loaded onto the ships bound for home.

The voyage to the capital of the Fire Nation was largely uneventful. No more ambushes or scraps to worry about; even the rowdier soldiers chose to keep to their drinks and bunks over infighting. She tried her best to offer support to those with seasickness, but her healing could do very little in that department. She no longer cared if everyone knew; the reason she decided to hide it in the first place was no longer applicable. It came as a shock to many, but none reacted violently when they witnessed the same technique that had been used to heal her own wound. It even started a few new rumors about her being ‘blessed’ by the spirit that healed her. Being in close relation with spirits was nothing abnormal for people of the Water Tribe; Katara heard stories of warriors, hunters, and ordinary people being healed or led home through a blizzard by the polar spirits. None of those were ancient folk tales, they were people living in her time; she could name names. To the people of the Fire Nation, being healed by a spirit was a legend, a miracle, a myth brought to life, and the reacted with the same awe every time the story was retold.

When the fleet of vessels reached their destination, they were greeted with an even larger celebration than before. Zuko bore the majority of the praise, but she didn’t attend the ceremony by the gates of the upper city where they lauded his achievements. Instead, she was quietly escorted to her new home.

The gardens that hosted the private villas were directly adjacent to the palace walls, with their own retaining wall surrounding them. The rooftops on the entrance and the walls were intricately tiled, the eaves sloped upward and were tipped with bronze. All the villas that belonged to the palace were located surrounding the central pond, and each had its own private garden along with the main one. Hers was one of the smallest out of the dozen or so dotted around, but it was by no means a small house. The interior didn’t feature the deep reds and mahogany wood as most of the offices in the Fire Nation seemed to favor; the floors were a light bamboo and the interior walls made of paper to let the cool air of the garden waft inward and bring in more light. It was two stories, the lower one featuring a living area, a dining room, and a study, and the upper having her private chambers. Having merely a bed again seemed like a luxury to her, but the bed she was given seemed rather excessive. The mattress was wider than she was tall and piled with fine silk sheets and coverlets with a mountain of down pillows resting against the headboard. The room had a closet and a dresser so large that she couldn’t imagine possibly filling both in an entire lifetime. There was a large circular sliding door in the sitting area that led to her own private gardens. It wasn’t much of a garden in the traditional sense of the word, meaning it wasn’t very floral. It was comprised of a large central pond stocked with multicolored fishes, with little islands dotted around within it connected by well-worn stone bridges. Some of the islands were small, some were large enough to support evergreen trees. The largest one was near the center of the little pond and featured a small red-painted shrine.

Within the upper floor of the house was a bamboo balcony with another circular sliding door that gave an excellent view of the gardens over the tops of the trees. When one of the maids unpacking her things noticed she took interest in it, they informed her it was a moon viewing platform. She could track the movement of it through the sky without a building or tree interrupting it, and from her bedchamber she could watch its reflection onto the pond in her garden.

The villa came with three servants, two maids that took care of the house and any personal affairs she might require, and one cook. Her house was too small to feature a servant’s quarter, so the three were nonpermanent residents. The two maids informed her that, although the house was largely furnished, that she should finish getting the rest herself. The house did seem a little bare, but after the days excitement of moving in, she didn’t care enough to walk around the markets for hours at a time looking at vases and trinkets that were slightly different shades of red or gold. Instead, she ate the artfully crafted and plated dinner the chef prepared, and promptly went to sleep on her mountain of pillows and silk.

The following day, she was informed by her staff that her presence was requested in the throne room at ten sharp. They fixed her food quickly before shoving her back into her bedroom to be dressed. The maids doted on her like a doll; they were sweet girls and she knew they had good intentions, but for the love of the spirits of they didn’t back off when she was trying to dress herself she was going to explode. Instead, she compromised; she allowed one of the two to help get her into the ridiculous, flowing red kimono that noble women were expected to wear here. The sleeves on it seemed infinite, and it took some practice to walk in without stepping on them.

“Mistress,” one maid opened the door after she’d finished being dressed, interrupting the other who had just finished brushing her hair. “Prince Zuko has arrived. He is here to escort you.”

“Kya is fine,” she insisted as the other maid hastily yanked her hair into an updo at the news.

The first bowed. “Yes, Mistress Kya.”

“That’s not…never mind. Thank you, I’ll be right down.”

Within a few seconds the rest of her hair was styled as well as it was going to get; Fire Nation people didn’t have thick curls and waves and little baby curls around their faces to contend with when they piled it into sleeked ponytails and topknots. Her maids desire not to keep royalty waiting outweighed the fact that her hair was imperfect, so the two quickly escorted her down the stairs and to the front of the house.

A wooden platform with deep red curtains sat on the ground in front of her house, flanked by four servants for each pole and four guards in red armor. The prince himself was nowhere to be seen; instead, two red guards marched from their position toward her, bowing deeply once they were a few paces away, before nodding for her to follow them back to the structure. Once she had walked over to the thing, one guard lifted the curtain and nodded for her to enter.

There was the prince, in all his glory, patiently sitting in the structure across from where she entered on a red pillow. He was wearing formal robes similar to her own, except his featured wide shoulderplates that made him look more broad-shouldered than he already was.

“Good morning,” he acknowledged her with a simple nod.

“Hello.” She took the directive and sat across from him on her own red pillow. The guard closed the curtain, shutting them off from the rest of the world. She felt a jolt as the four servants picked up the wooden platform off the ground, carrying the two off to the palace.

“Is this really necessary?” she couldn’t help but ask. The silk screens surrounding them combined with four people carrying them to a palace seemed highly pretentious.

“Its customary for me.” His tone seemed to suggest he thought the pomp was a bit ridiculous as well. “Between the two of us, you’re the one that should be getting carried around. How are you feeling?”

“Better.” She said in honesty. “I’m sorry I didn’t attend your ceremony yesterday.”

He interrupted her from furthering her apology with a scoff. “You didn’t miss anything important. It would have been cruel to make you stand out in the sun for hours as they praised me. It was a much better use of your time to get settled. Do you like it, there?”

“It’s lovely. The servants are a little…much, but—”

“If you don’t like them, I can have them removed,” he said quickly, interrupting her again.

She shook her head. “No, I’m just not used it yet. I’ve never had people whose job it is to dress me and do my hair.”

He nodded in return. “Yes. It takes some getting used to. Even for me.”

There was a long pause. “Well,” she finally broke it, “thank you. Really, thank you. My house is lovely."

He gave her a little smile before looking back down at his hands. Before the silence stretched out again, the platform was placed on the ground and the curtain pulled back once again. She made a move to get out of her seat, and her hand was immediately taken by the royal guard. He gently helped pull her out of the structure and into the plaza in front of the palace before Zuko came out on his own. A little crowd had gathered around them, held at bay by a slew of guards in red armor aside from the four accompanying them. 

Katara hadn’t yet seen the palace proper, but it certainly looked like somewhere were royalty would live. Three towers tipped with gold flames reached toward the sky, the walls and gates surrounding it foreboding and steep. She swallowed.

The interior was no less welcoming. As the massive gates were opened and they were allowed to pass through, she noted that the body of the palace was just as massive and imposing as she imagined it would be, the earth surrounding it blackened and salted to leave it completely barren.

“To prevent any cover that could be used to sneak into the palace,” Zuko supplemented when she asked. The gate was closed heavily as the remaining guards filtered through into their neat ranks behind them.

She couldn’t exactly explain why she was so nervous. At the moment she was blaming it on the unfamiliarity: she was wearing foreign clothes, it was hot out, she was in a foreign city, and was meeting with a foreign ruler with immense power. She was also meeting with a leader who was informed about global affairs. The people of the Fire Nation seemed to know preciously little about the Water Tribes, which had so far worked to her advantage, but she was meeting with one of the few in the nation who might know the right questions to ask.

She took her mind from the fretting to gaze at a mass of blue in the charred area separating the walls surrounding the palace and the building itself, the only spot of color on the blackened ground. At first glance she thought it was a spirit again, but then she saw the horns, scales, and fangs protruding from the lower jaw.

“He’s big.” She commented quietly, trying to estimate the length of the blue dragon from far away. It was a great deal larger than Zuko’s, that much she could tell.

“She’s big.” Zuko corrected as they continued walking inward. “That’s Ryū. She was my great-grandfather Sozin’s, passed down to my uncle. She’s about two hundred and fifty years old now, I think.”

“You pass down dragons?”

“Not like property, but they usually stay with their master’s family after they pass. Dragons can live for hundreds of years, and they often grow attached to the children of their master and stay with them after they die. Sometimes the hatchlings the dragons sire stay in the family too, but that’s more rare.”

She found herself smiling. “That’s kind of sweet.”

The corner of his mouth curled into a smirk. “Sometimes it’s funny to think how unfortunate my descendants will be to get cursed with Druk for the next three hundred years or so.”

The little joke helped quash down the nerves flitting around in her stomach. “Maybe he’ll grow out of it; you said yourself that he’s still a kid.”

“He will, eventually, perhaps before I’m dead,” he commented wryly, and she couldn’t help breaking out in a giggle. He didn’t join in, but she could see out of the corner of her eye that he offered her one of his rare smiles as they approached the main entrance. They remained silent as they passed through the grand halls, the ceilings tall enough to fit a dragon through and wide enough for an army. Everything was either painted red or dyed red, from the furniture to the tapestries to the curtains on the floor-to-ceiling windows.

“Follow my lead once we get in there.” He instructed quietly as they approached a large set of double doors at the end of the main hallway. “Don’t speak unless spoken to, be penitent, and wait for us to tell you what to do.”

His seriousness had caused her nerves to flare. Her mouth was dry and her stomach was in knots, but she gave him a nod. With Zuko’s command, guards opened the doors to reveal a room wreathed in shadow.

In a stark contrast to the brightly lit hallways, the throne room was windowless. There were rows of black Corinthian pillars, black marble floors, and black-painted walls. The pillars and ceiling were modeled with gold to give the room depth, but it was clear that the focus of the room was designed to be its only source of light: the throne. The Fire Lord sat in its center, a golden dragon bas relief at his back that looked as if it was about to swallow him whole. The front of the throne was cloaked in a blazing wall of fire, making the closed-in room feel unbearably humid.

Katara didn’t have time to gape; Zuko quickly strode forward into the center of the room. He knelt on the marble and she followed his example, bowing so deep her forehead touched the cold floor.

“Rise.” The wizened voice told them from the throne, and they went back to their knees.

“Uncle,” Zuko spoke first, “I’ve brought you home victory, but it would be dishonorable to claim it as mine alone. Before you is Kya of the Southern Water Tribe, the legendary Wolf of Jiang Chen.”

“There’s no need to be so formal.” The figure replied jovially and rose off the throne of fire, descending into the main room to reveal a squat old man dressed in elegant red robes. The shoulder plates he wore were wide and grand, sloped up at the tips like the eaved roofs of the palace and her estate. What was left of his balding grey hair was left long and piled into a topknot on the back of his head, the five-pronged golden flame crown centered in his hair far more ostentatious than either Zuko’s or Azula’s had been. “Stand, Zuko. Let me greet my nephew like someone from my own family.”

He did so beside her, getting to his feet. He was nearly knocked over when the Fire Lord, shorter than she was, pulled him into a ferocious hug.

“I’m so dreadfully sorry that I was too busy yesterday to personally greet you, but know that I'm very proud of you and all you've accomplished.” The Fire Lord said as he pulled away, giving Zuko a warm smile before turning to her. “This was the waterbender you’ve written me about?”

“Yes,” he said, looking a bit sheepish as he turned away from the Fire Lord, “You can stand, now.”

She did just that and the Fire Lord gave her a curt bow, nothing more than a nod of his head. She returned the nicety, going as low as she could before her wound hurt.

“It is my pleasure to finally meet with you and welcome someone as illustrious as yourself into my home and my nation,” the Fire Lord said, “I owe you an immense debt, not only for helping us win the war, but by sacrificing yourself for my nephew. As you may already know, I lost my son many years ago to this senseless violence; I do not know what I would have done if I had lost my nephew as well.”

Although he was the leader of this nation and she was a mere subject standing in his throne room, his kindness warmed her heart. His gentle demeanor was infectious, and she quickly sighed away the stress she'd held inside of her about their meeting. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well. Thank you for inviting me into your home. I’m sure Prince Zuko has told that the war in my homeland has left me homeless for years, so I was hoping I could get the chance to personally thank you for taking me in.”

“It truly is the least we can do for a young master as accomplished as you. If you require anything, do not hesitate to ask it of us.” He gave her a kind smile again. “I look forward to speaking with you further, but if you’ll excuse me, I desperately need to catch up with my nephew over tea. If you wish, the servants can give you a tour of the North Wing. It’s where most of the palace amenities are, which you are welcome to as our guest.”

“Thank you, that sounds lovely.” She gave him a little bow. “I look forward to meeting with you again.”

“Likewise.” The Fire Lord nodded and called in a pair of servants to give her a tour of the spa, the library, the finely decorated sitting rooms, and the massive Agni Kai chamber, and her fears were completely forgotten.

* * *

The Central Tower of the castle had been just as Zuko remembered it. The East Wing was where his personal chambers were; his belonging had long since been moved to the chambers for the Crown Prince, although he’d used it so little over the past eleven years that the room still felt foreign to him. The entrance to the tower was a small hidden set of stairs to the left of the throne, which led into the private meeting chambers for official use in conjunction with the throne room. His uncle mentioned he had refurbished one into a tearoom; it was far less formal than the one in the gardens, but its convenience surely suited him.

Zuko waited patiently as his uncle went through the motions, rudely nodding toward the scroll hanging on the wall and read it aloud. “A wide sea lets fish jump; a high sky lets birds fly.”

“An interesting couplet; it’s become one of my favorites.” His uncle commented as he set down the polishing equipment and picked up the scoop, slowly extracting the tea leaves from the container and putting them into the teapot.

“Hopeful,” he said mutely, because it was required of him, “a good spring poem.”

“Or for the end of the war,” his uncle gave him a knowing look.

“We can certainly owe that to a wide sea.” He noted, and his uncle nodded appropriately.

“Admittedly, that’s why I chose it.” He said, putting down the scoop and waiting for the tea to steep. “When she is feeling better, I hope to invite her to tea as well. I understand that she’s still recovering, and I’m certain she needs time to adjust to her new situation.”

He couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the idea of Kya, the person who eats with her hands, having formal tea with his traditionalist uncle. “She doesn’t know how the tea ceremony works, so don’t be offended when she breaks the rules.”

“You know all of the rules and hate them.” His uncle said pointedly, but not in a way that was unkind, and he chuckled at his comment. “She can’t be any more ill-mannered than you are.”

“This is certainly something I missed. Being mannered while drinking tea.” His uncle, thankfully, enjoyed the sarcasm and returned it with a smile now that the ceremony had slowly transitioned into the casual portion. His uncle poured the tea between two cups, ensuring that both contained the same amount, before handing him his. The two shifted into a more comfortable sitting position once he’d received it and taken a drink. “Excellent as always, but I would never expect any less from you.”

“I’ve started growing the plants myself.” His uncle admitted, sipping his own. “I think I mentioned to you I had taken an interest in it the last time you visited, and that the war dreadfully cut me off from some of my favorite suppliers. Just outside the teahouse in the gardens is a selection of different plants I use in my brews.”

“It’s good to hear you finally have a hobby besides nagging me.” Zuko commented, picking up and one of the sweets that were laid out to compliment the tea with his chopsticks. “Did you hand-press the _hagashi_ as well, or do I have to leave for another year before you to get that bored?”

The old man put a hand on his belly as he laughed, throwing his head backward. “No, I did not, to answer your question. Unfortunately, my nagging is not done yet, and it’s the other reason I invited you here for a discussion. It’s time for you to get settled, Zuko.” His uncle picked up one of the sweets for himself between his chopsticks. “High time.”

This was the conversation he had been expecting at some point in his life, but had never looked forward to. His uncle was right, he was nearly thirty years of age and still without an heir. It was uncommon for a prince to go unmarried this long without so much as a serious engagement, but war prevents these things. When you’ve been away at war for eleven years, there’s no time to stop and try to have a proper marriage. You can hardly bring your wife along with you, and she wouldn’t be happy if you could only visit for a short time each year, if at all.

“I suppose my brief engagement with Sugawara Mai should be thrown up in flames.” He tried to hide the emotion on his face by taking another drink. He and Mai would have wed when he turned twenty, young but not an atypical age. He’d moved past it long ago, but that didn’t mean he reveled in being reminded of it. “The only reason we were engaged was to get the Sugawara Clan to support my father in the rebellion; they still did that even when they realized they’d been cheated out of a marriage.”

“Perhaps we should still consider it,” Iroh suggested, “A union between one of your father’s more prominent supporters and yourself might calm down the royal court.”

He almost couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re suggesting we reward the people who supported him instead of punishing them?”

“It would certainly calm their nerves,” his uncle responded, “With what happened with Tom-Tom, and Mai’s dismissal by Azula—”

He held up a hand, interrupting when he heard the last part. “What do you mean, dismissal?”

“I’m not quite sure myself, just what I was told. Perhaps her and her family’s allegiance to your father wasn’t as strong as we thought it was. I don’t want the nobility to split again, but punishment for those clans is in order.” He took a pause to run a hand down his beard. “I just haven’t figured out what I’m going to do with all of them yet.”

He cautiously eyed his uncle. “Then why bring it up if you haven’t made up your mind?”

His uncle simply shrugged. “I thought you liked the girl.”

He nearly dropped the teacup in his hand, barely managing not to choke. “I did fifteen years ago, before she decided to fight for my sister,” he sputtered, “I haven’t spoken to her since.”

His uncle looked up from his cup. “There is no other suggestion you have for me?”

“What do you want me to say?” He rudely waved his hand around blindly. “Do you think I have someone in mind?”

“I thought you might; you ran an encampment with female officers.”

He paused and put down his cup. “Are you suggesting I’d do something as dishonorable as sleeping with my soldiers?”

His uncle sighed and ran a hand down his face. “It’s not dishonorable to get to know the people that serve you. I was only implying that you might choose one of them.”

“Is that what you want me to do?” He earnestly had no idea what his uncle wanted from him. “Do you think I should propose to one of them, to reward them for their loyalty?”

“Marriage is not a union to be rushed into,” his uncle finally advised, “Think about it, and don’t hurry your decision. If you want it to be purely political you can leave it to me. If you want a choice, go out and make one for yourself.”

He paused. “So, you’re giving me a choice, then?”

“Zuko, you’re the only family I have left. I’d rather see you be happy in my later years than in a loveless marriage.”

“Thank you, uncle.” He said in honesty. “I never expected to be given a say in this. I’ve never even thought about it.”

“What our nation needs most is love, and healing. And that must start with us.” His uncle picked up another one of the sweets. “To start off a new era of peace, I want to have a celebration next week. Before you protest,” he held up a hand to stop him from doing just that, “the brunt of the planning is already finished. It’s why I’ve been so busy as of late, because I didn't want to burden you with it."

“Exactly how much is it costing?” he sternly asked his uncle, “We’re supposed to be restructuring the economy to survive after a war.”

“Not enough.” His uncle jested, and he gave him a glare in return. “You need not concern yourself with it. You’re getting fitted tomorrow afternoon, and all you have to do after that is show up and be polite.”

He resisted the urge to grumble about it. He was going to waste an entire afternoon getting fitted for new robes. He’d barely been home for a few days, and already he feels the wheels of life turning too quickly. He wanted to take a break, spend an afternoon in the gardens with tea and a good book, maybe take a short excursion before the peace talks began, but of course not. He must find a wife and have his uncle show him off at a party like a prized cowpig. Straight to royal duties.

Instead of complaining he accepted his fate, leaning elbow on his knee and resting his face in his hand. “I can be present and polite.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone has a happy holiday, no matter what you celebrate or if you don't celebrate anything at all!


	17. Something Old and Something New

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big sorry for my glaringly obvious typo last chapter. Hope I didn’t get anyone’s hopes up unnecessarily. Speaking of hopes, if the beginning of this chapter feels out of place in this fic to you…keep reading. Read until the end. I promise.
> 
> Beginning paragraph disclaimer: I’m not a professional palm reader. This is what I gleaned from guidebooks and Wikihow, and I also made some of it up. Also, take palm reading with a pinch of salt because I’m cherrypicking the reading here.

* * *

I never forget a hand. My critics claim it’s a fetish; I say its scientific curiosity. You can glean a litany of information from looking at someone’s hands: their societal status, their bending ability, their temperament. If you’re as obsessed with hand-reading as I am, you can tell a person’s past, present, and future. I can glance at a client’s hand and know that they’ll meet true love within five years, that they’ll lose their love young or that they’ll grow old together, or that they’ll never find love because they’re too busy sleeping around to care. I can tell who will rise from the ashes and come into power or wealth, and I can see who will lose it all to frivolity. I can tell if someone comes from a broken home, how many children they will have, and when they will die. Although it’s not my day job, I find it fascinating.

One of the more interesting ones I can remember was one of my more famous clients, back when she was still only mildly famous. She had a break in her life line parallel to the first knuckle of her thumb. Breaks in the life line don’t always indicate death, but hers was very deep; I think we can all hazard a guess at what that meant. She had an old scar, nearly faded away, between her ring finger and her little finger just above her love line: something important would happen in her love life between the ages of ten and twenty-five, it could have been good or bad. There was a large crease branching off from her love line that ended below her ring finger. That normally indicates that her love is a firebender, but the depth suggested that they were extremely powerful, either monetarily or in bending prowess. Most interestingly of all, she had a triangular crease in her love line pointing toward her palm, which indicates that she may have heart issues or an injury resulting from an outing with her love. This was also coupled with the edge of her love line being forked, one curving up and the other curving downward, indicating that she was willing to sacrifice herself for the person she cared for. Like I said before, the hands don’t lie.

-an excerpt from the personal journal of Pei-Pei Fa

* * *

_You are hereby cordially invited to join us in celebration for a new era of peace for the Fire Nation. This ceremony intends on bringing our nation together again, with esteemed guests hailing from Caldera Island as well as the Eastern Isles. We look forward to seeing you at the festivities._

_Formal attire and this invitation are mandatory for entrance. Doors open at 7:00 P.M, March 10th._

Katara paused to look at her three friends, sitting on various couches and cushions around her sitting room once she’d finished reading the letter aloud.

Miki spoke first as she lounged back on the couch, kicking her feet up in the air. “I don’t see what the problem is. It sounds the same as ours did.” 

“It’s addressed to Okami Kya,” she read the name out loud to the girls, “what does Okami mean?”

“Let me see.” On Jin held out a hand for it, and she gave the paper invitation over to her friend to examine it. She scrunched her eyebrows in confusion as she read it over, but quickly relaxed. “The way it’s written means wolf. My guess is since you don’t have a clan name, they gave you one.”

“We don’t have clan names where I’m from,” she told her, “but I guess it fits, considering.”

“I’m sure they did it to be polite, not to make a jab at you.” On Jin handed her the invitation back. “It would make them look rude if you were introduced by only your first name.”

Yun groaned to herself as she sat in front of a mirror, trying to tie her bun like she always did with only one arm. She eventually gave up on her third attempt and started over. “I know you’re still healing, but you really need something to wear.”

Katara looked down at the red robe, taking the flowing silk and fisting it between her hands. “What’s wrong with this?”

Yun turned around and squinted at it. “It’s not awful, but it’s not a ball gown, you know?”

“I’d loan you one of my old ones,” Miki piped up, “but I don’t think it would fit. Besides, it’ll be fun, like when we went shopping before the New Year.”

“Ok, fine,” she conceited, “take me shopping.”

Yun turned back around and looked over at Miki on the couch. “Hey, you know where we should take her?”

Miki tapped a finger against her lip. “I wonder if we could get her into Fa’s.”

“By the spirits above.” On Jin swiped a hand down her face. “That woman’s a nightmare. You know Fa fills up quickly, right? There’s no way she isn’t already booked with this celebration coming up.”

“Kya’s a war hero.” Yun finally finished with her hair. “She’ll make room in her schedule.”

She had no idea who the seemingly famous dressmaker was, but the three girls seemed to know what they were doing. They handed making the appointment, and, as predicted, it came rather quickly. This time around her maids had plenty of time to get her hair presentable, even if it felt like they’d used a gallon of hair oil to straighten the flyaway curls. The dressmakers shop wasn’t far, located in the upper portion of Caldera city where the nobility lived.

“Don’t touch anything.” Miki instructed her as they made a turn down another cobbled street.

“Don’t make any suggestions, either.” Yun warned her.

“And for the love of every spirit under the sun, don’t stare.” On Jin stopped at one of the doors, the sign above it merely saying ‘Fa’s’ with an image of a needle and a spool of thread.

“Stare at what?” Katara asked, but before the girl could respond, a servant opened the door and she was ushered inside.

“Welcome!” Exclaimed a large woman with welcoming, open arms as they entered. Her face was bulbous and toad-like; the mole above her lip quaked every time she moved her stern mouth, which seemed to be every second. “It’s so excellent to see such beautiful, well-born ladies representing our nation.”

They bowed to the woman in unison, presumably the Fa she had been warned about.

“This must be the client.” The dressmaker walked over to her and cupped her face, examining it as she turned it in her hands. “Proud face. Lucky nose. Full lips. You have quite a reputation, my dear, but they failed to mention your beauty.”

“Thank you.” She responded as the dressmaker took one of her hands next and looked at her palm.

“The hands of a lady. I see you have a great romance in your future.” She hummed as she traced a line down her palm with her nail. “He’s going to be a very powerful bender.”

“Really?” If Katara were younger and more naïve, she would have been much more excited about having her future told. Now that she was older, she knew that the woman was probably just telling her what she’d want to hear; nevertheless, it was still made her stomach lift with anticipation. “That’s great!”

“Oh, more than great, from what your love line says!” Fa exclaimed, lightly chuckling and smiling to herself before clasping her hand and dragging her over to a spot near the window. The dressmaker snapped her fingers and two assistants appeared, pulling out tape to take her measurements.

“Every woman has an inner gazelle-swan inside her, waiting to burst forth.” The dressmaker walked around her, her eyes roving her figure like a butcher sizing up a prime cut of meat as the two attendants wrapped the tape around her midsection and shoulders. “It’s my job to see that vision and bring it to life.”

The dressmaker reached out and touched her hair, playing with a strand between her nails. “This is wrong.” She said flatly, tugging hard enough to make her wince. “What’s your natural hair like, dear?”

“It’s normally wavy,” Katara admitted, “but it looks awful if I style it like you do here without straightening it.”

The woman walked in front of her, raking her fingers through her hair to muss it and undo her maids work. “The most beautiful face a lady can present is her own natural beauty. Makeup, dresses, and hair should always accentuate that rather than change it. A good eye can tell what is real and what is an illusion.”

Good advice to keep in mind, she supposed. At least, it was something she’d look forward to snarking at her maids later when they brought out the hair oil. “Keep it curly. Got it.”

“Now, for the dress.” Fa drawled the words contemplatively as she continued to walk around her. “I want navy.” Another attendant quickly scribbled it down on a long sheet of paper draped over her forearm as the dressmaker began quickly barking out orders. “Use that material I bought at the market in Kaimei a few years back. Sleeves triple layered, bodice tight but with a high neckline and a collar; I want everyone to see her figure without throwing it out there like a whore. Find that silver thread of mine in storage as well; I want the bodice patterned. Tell Ming to bring me my old swatches.”

The dressmaker finally stood at her front and spoke to her directly, hands clasped behind her back. “Pull your hair back but not up. No makeup except red lipstick, the darkest shade you can get your hands on. Find a silver hairpin or comb to put in your hair; no other jewelry. Do you understand me, dear?”

Katara bobbed her head; this woman was more intimidating than half of the commanders in the army. “Yes, ma’am.”

Fa puckered her lips, making her mole dart around her face like an insect. “Smart girl. Come back in five days for a fitting and alterations, it’ll be ready the day after.”

Just as quickly as her measurements were taken and the style of the dress was dictated for her, the four were shoved back out of the door.

“What an odd woman.” Katara mumbled to herself, playing with the strand of hair the dressmaker had sharply yanked.

On Jin smirked to herself. “Odd is one way of putting it.”

* * *

The fitting day was almost as demanding as the day her measurements were taken, but the final product was stunning. It was, by far, the finest piece of clothing Katara would ever own. In a different life, she sewed a coat made from polar bear dog fur from a ceremonial hunt she had been allowed to go on with Sokka and her father. For years she considered it her most prized piece of clothing, until today.

Fa might be difficult to work with, be it client or employee, but the dress was like a fantasy. The collar fit snugly around her neck, not too tight to constrict her breathing yet fitted well enough to look elegant and was trimmed with silver. The bodice was snug enough to clearly show the outline of her breasts; the skirt and sleeves layered and loose so they flowed when she walked. Katara had never seen such finely stitched embroidery before; the dressmaker had done a repeating wave-like pattern on the bodice and neckline that stopped at the sash around her waist and the sleeves. The metallic silver thread on the pattern and her collar reflected light as she twisted her body. It was, truly, a ballgown meant for a royal soiree; the snug fit and airy silk felt infinitely more comfortable to wear than the ridiculously long-sleeved gown that she had worn previously.

She had no palanquin or covered litter to travel to the palace in, so unlike the rest of the nobility, she walked. She hardly needed to be carried by servants in a gilded carriage when her villa was five minutes from the entrance of the palace, but two of the guards stationed by the gardens offered her an escort nonetheless. 

There were all manner of guests; old and young, soldier and nobleman, officer and lady. Red and gold robes were, of course, the most prominent theme, but it was more varied than she expected. The soldiers wore their armor with a cape around their neck, the ladies wore different hues of yellow, ochre, peach, lavender, and black. Most looked like they spend more on their jewelry than on their clothing; necks and fingers were awash with exotic gemstones and hair was tied up with elaborate pins and combs. In a blue gown and with a single silver hairpin holding part of her hair in a bun, she stood out like a sunbeam in a snowstorm.

Katara followed the flow of the throng of people into the palace, taking a turn into the North Wing and up a large flight of stairs into the ballroom. Although she only arrived half an hour after the initial celebration began, it was already packed. The center of the room was cleared for dancing partners, the women twirling and skirts flying as their companions spun and lead. There was a band off to the left in the corner playing merry music with instruments she’d never seen or heard before. Unsure of what to do, she snagged a glass of wine from one of the servers and watched it all from the far corner.

She met up with her friends briefly before each was snatched by someone to go dancing. Some of the officers she’d known from her time in the army gave her their well-wishes and respects. After more time had passed, and with nothing to do, she gave her now-empty wine glass back to a server and slipped out onto the terrace.

The Fire Nation capital was beautiful. She’d barely had the time to enjoy it, but it really was a sight in the setting evening sun on the balcony. The red and orange haze of sundown made the red tiled roofs light up. It almost made it look like the sunlight was pouring down from the heavens and onto earth, reddening everything it touched. Katara leaned her hands onto the stone railing and wistfully stared; this place might not be her home, and she might not entirely fit in, but more and more it was starting to feel like a place where she could find peace.

“May I join you?”

She turned her head around to see where the break in the silence had originated. Royalty suited Zuko well. He always looked like a natural born leader in any type of clothing, chin high and shoulders back with proud features, but seeing him away from the battlefield and in a softer setting drove it home. The gold threads in his formalwear matched the gold in his eyes; the black and deep maroon paired with his dark hair and fair skin. He was smiling again, not a smirk, but a kind gentle smile. Maybe it was the wine, it was definitely the wine, but she could feel a second heartbeat pulsing between her legs.

“It’s your house.” Was all she could reply when she realized that she had to reply to him and not just stare, and he leaned against the railing next to her.

“It’s not a house, it’s a palace,” he mused with a little smile, “It’s good to see you again. How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine.” Almost reflexively, she touched her stomach where the scar was. “Not at one hundred percent yet, but I’m getting there.”

“That’s good to hear. Have there been any other issues with your house or servants?”

“No, but thanks for asking. It's beautiful; it almost feels like too much.”

He looked out at the view. “You deserve it. Most of the Fire Nation thinks that you’re the descendant of a river spirit that helped grant us victory.”

She gave him a sideways glance. “You know I’m not, right?”

“No, you were only blessed by one,” his tone turned into teasing again, “I’m sure you’re of very little divine importance. I can’t see where the masses could’ve drawn their conclusions from.”

She huffed and couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “If I have to deal with your harassment for the rest of my life, I think I would have rather died.”

He must have been drinking, because that comment made him laugh. It was a high and light, and it rang through their little private space like a bell. “The spirits don’t seem to want to give you that favor,” he grinned out over the terrace, “Life sure is hard, isn’t it?”

“And that’s coming from the man who’s drank and danced all night,” she retorted with a smile, “Life is hard.”

“Why weren’t you dancing?” He suddenly sobered up as he turned back to her, and she realized he must have been paying attention to her even if she hadn’t seen him until now.

“Oh, uh…” She wrought her hands together. “I don’t really know how.”

“The simple ones aren’t that hard to pick up.” He wasn’t asking outright, but the hopefulness she thought she could see in his eyes was.

She pursed her lips, hoping her awkwardness wasn’t as outwardly obvious as she thought it was. The dances here were so intimate, the way the two partners touched one another, bodies moving in tandem and hands clasped. She didn’t have to imagine the feeling as her mind flicked back to that brief moment of time where he’d put his hand on her shoulder so she wouldn’t fall on her face, how she looped an arm around his waist, how warm and gentle and comforting his touch had been, what it would feel like if his hand went further south...

“I’m not sure if I’m up for it.” She managed to squeak out, trying physically shake the thought away.

“I understand.” He replied, looking back out over the terrace as he lightly drummed his fingers against it. “I have some good news about the peace talks”

“Do tell,” she said, eagerly hoping for a change in the subject.

“I wrote to the Avatar when we arrived back here. He’s agreed to fly here and preside over the negotiations,” he told her with a bright smile, “He’ll be here in three days’ time.”

It felt like her heart had stopped a second time. The one little drink she’d tasted roiled in her stomach and became acid, and her hands held onto the railing of the terrace for dear life.

“I want you to be on the council as well.” He broke the silence, and she truly thought she was going to vomit. “You were integral to the war ending, and I think it would be a good show for the Avatar to have you there.”

“I can’t.” She spat out, desperately trying to think up some excuse. “I’m not from your nation, I shouldn’t be getting into its politics.”

He nodded his head and mulled it over. “There’s going to be some who think you’re barging in and telling us how to run our country, but they’ll think that about the Avatar, too. I’ve seen the way you hold yourself at these kinds of meetings; I think you’ll be able to handle yourself without objection.”

“I don’t think I can.” She quickly negated him but couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Don’t be worried about whether the Fire Lord will care or not; he isn’t nearly as harsh as my father was, and he already loves you. If you make a mistake or speak out of turn, you won’t get burned.”

“No, really—”

“And don’t worry about the Avatar, either.” He cut her off, waving a reassuring hand. “He has a reputation of being a good, fair man. He is an Air Nomad.”

She let out a shaky breath, trying not to let him see her panic. “I think there’s something y—”

“Kya, you belong there, and that’s the end of the argument. Don’t make me command you.” He smirked once again. “And don’t try and tell me you’re not up for it, because all you have to do is sit there. You don't have to speak if you're not comfortable with saying anything. I’ll have someone send you the arrangements of the meeting once it’s made.”

She didn’t say anything, keeping her eyes focused out over the balcony.

He turned his head toward the ballroom again just as the music picked up. “I’d better get back. You’re going to do great, don’t worry about it.”

Katara stayed frozen on the spot long after he’d gone. She tried to contain her worry the best she could before quietly slipping back inside and leaving through the main gate. Suddenly the music was far too loud, the room too warm and crowded to get a proper breath in, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that everyone was staring at her. Everyone was going to know; all of these people, standing back to back in this little room. Her life had been going too well, and now it was going to come to a crashing halt.

* * *

Zuko knew how to drink. He knew how to not make himself ill and how to drink the right amount to not make an ass of himself in public, a skill acquired through unfortunate experimentation when he was a teenager who had little responsibility, was angry at the world, and who enjoyed sneaking around and getting into trouble. He doesn’t drink often now, only when absolutely required by social convention lest he seem rude, and during the war he shrugged away most of that responsibility under the guise of needing to stay alert and prepared. Now, however, he has no excuse, and both he and his uncle know this; tonight, he may drink himself sick.

He has already made an ass of himself; he solidified that after his very brief conversation with Kya. The one where he tried to ask her to dance and she ran out of the hall and had yet to return, nearly half an hour after the incident. The one where he said she’d make a ‘good show’ for the Avatar when what he’d really wanted was to give her a metaphorical foot in the door to politics so she’d have a purpose here after the war. He wanted her to know she was wanted here as someone who could help the nation move forward, that she was more than the person who sacrificed herself. He was too stupid to even ask her properly; he told her, half-threatened to command her to be at the meeting. He wanted to retire to his chambers and bang his forehead against the nearest wall until the memory of that interaction erased itself from his mind; why did he assume what she would want without even asking her? No wonder she ran away.

It had taken him a few minutes of staring at her before he could find words to say, even if they were foolish. The silk of her gown was sheer enough to highlight the swell of her breasts; the sash tight enough around her waist to accentuate the gentle curve of her hip. Her lips were swollen from drinking, slightly stained with burgundy wine; her cheeks with a gentle kiss of red.

She was absolutely lovely in every possible way. And she did not want him.

And so, he drank until he pain hurt a little less, or at least until pretending not to see his uncle flirt with older women became less of a chore. She’d already given him enough; she was ready to lay down her life for his sake. It wasn’t her fault that he was greedy and wanted something more. He did his duty to distract himself, being regal and drinking and dancing and parlaying with nobility until he couldn’t take it any longer. He quietly excused himself to his uncle and sought the lighter, cooler air of the nearby gardens.

It was a place that had always brought him peace, especially so when he was a boy. He steered clear of the section of villas, not wanting to be reminded of his incompetence. Tonight, it was mostly empty; a few guests wandered out this far in search of privacy, but none sat on the well-manicured lawn in its center except for one.

“You know, it’s illegal to bring weaponry onto palace grounds.”

The edge of her lip twitched, and the knife he knew she kept hidden in her right sleeve was pulled out and stabbed into the dirt. “Greetings, your Highness.” Mai said without looking directly at him in her all too familiar waspish tone. “For what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” 

Mai was never the most welcoming or comforting person. She wasn’t a delicate flower whose scent and soft petals brought you comfort; she was a rose with far too many thorns that would much sooner prick your finger. She certainly wasn’t the person he should speaking to now, but he had drank enough that he didn’t care.

“Don’t.” He said curtly as he plopped down next to her in the grass. “I’m not in the mood for that.”

“Neither am I.” The branch of a nearby tree moved with a slight breeze, causing the bright rays of the setting sun to glare right in her eyes. She put up a well-manicured hand to shade herself as she made an upset face. “Sunsets are so ugly.”

“Only if you’re staring directly at them.” She gave him a cold glare and turned her head away from it. “You want me to leave you so you can complain about the sun by yourself?”

“No. It’s no fun complaining with no one around to hear.” She broke her stoic exterior for just a moment to give him a little smile that he returned. “It’s nice to complain with you again.”

He scratched the bridge of his nose. “Thanks, that means a lot.”

“So why are you out here moping around?” She edged a little closer to him and put her hands on her knees. “Got something you want to complain about?”

“No.” Yes. He might be drunk, but he wasn’t drunk enough to complain about Kya to Mai. However, Mai was going to want a real reason that he came out here…wait, didn’t he have to talk to Mai about something, anyway? “What happened to my sister, in the end?”

She visibly shrugged. “I don’t know. She just kind of snapped one day, right before she attacked your camp. I think it all caught up with her at once. I wasn’t there to witness the meltdown; she banished Ty Lee and I right before it happened.”

“She actually banished you?”

“She used the word ‘dismissed,’ but you and I know Azula well enough to know what that meant. If she didn’t have use for you anymore, that was it. She died before we could figure out the implications of it, anyway.” A pause. “She got pissed with me that I didn’t want my brother to die that day… she thought I let him get away.”

He toyed with a blade of grass. “I apologize for bringing it around you.”

Mai let out a genuine, heavy sigh. “I don’t know. It’s hard to really say what she and I were, to be honest. Sometimes she would act like we were best friends. Sometimes she acted like we were her pawns.”

“It’s still hard, to lose someone like that.” He told her. “I hope you and Ty Lee know I gave her a proper cremation and burial. Well, as proper that I could give her since she was on my father’s side. It’s in that dragon cave.”

“She’d like that.” She smirked slightly before her face fell. “Ty Lee took it really hard. She was a mess. She felt like she didn’t do enough for her, that maybe she could have stopped it somehow…” Her voice began to falter, and she took a moment to sniff and gently dab her eyes with the tips of her fingers so her makeup didn’t smear. “It was harder seeing her like that than hearing about Azula.”

“At least you both have each other.”

She let out a dry laugh. “Yea, we do.” She finished fixing up her face and grabbed the knife she’d embedded in the dirt. “I should probably get back to her.” She explained as she stowed the _kunai_ up her sleeve. “She isn’t angry with you, she’s just very emotional what happened, so she didn’t come tonight. I hope you don’t take that as a slight.”

“No, of course not.” He made a move to stand as well. “I should probably go back; they’re going to start spreading rumors if I don’t.”

“Yea, I remember how that was.” Mai neatly folded her hands in the sleeves of her robe. “I did not miss being a lady.”

“Hey.” He put up a hand to stop her, because that was another thing he needed to talk to Mai about. “About that—”

Her pained groan interrupted his sentence. “Please tell me you’re not proposing to me.”

There had been many years, before he ran off to war to seek his honor, where hearing her say that sentence would have shattered his heart. That was back when he was young and naïve, dreaming that his childhood crush would someday become his lady and that they’d live happily ever after like the stories his mother used to tell. Mai had always preferred to stay in the shadows of large gatherings, to be the wallflower in court, to enjoy silently and from afar. He disdained the limelight and the fawning as much as she did, something he thought would make them closer, but these things were his duty to perform, not hers. The older he grew, the more he realized how incredibly miserable being attached to him would make her. They’d never have a truly happy marriage because it would always be more than just a marriage; it would be a job, a continuous way of life that neither could escape from. It would be cruel to force her into a life like that, and it would be dreadfully unfair to put someone he considered an old friend in that position.

“No.” He shook his head finally. “I actually wanted to say that I’d rather move on from that, but it sounds like that’s ok with you.”

“You could say that.” She turned away, looking mournfully out at the setting sun again. “I’ve moved on from it, too.”

“That’s good. You should do what makes you happy.”

She skeptically raised an eyebrow as she turned to face him. “We both know my parents better than that.”

“I’m serious.” He took a step toward her. “Let them set up your younger brother. You’ve been through enough; don’t let them decide the rest of your life for you right after the war.”

She kept her emotions as controlled as usual, only giving him a few blinks and a tilt of her head. “Thanks. You know, marrying you wouldn’t have been all bad.”

He gave her a cautious smile. “You’d have to come to all of my uncle’s stupid parties.”

“No, thanks.” She gave him one last look. “I might not hate you, but his optimism gets on my nerves.”

“It gets on my nerves, too, but he’s the best family I have.” Pausing for a second again, he spoke up just as she was turning around to leave as he finally remembered the third thing he needed to talk to Mai about. “Hey, you were on my father’s court for years, right?”

She glanced back. “Yea, why?”

“Did you, uh…” he lowered his voice, “Do you know what happened to my mother?”

She gave him an odd look, cocking her head slightly. “No, and I’m not really sure what you mean. She was never there; we thought she stayed here, with you.”

“Oh.” He looked back down at the dirt, hoping it would tell him what to say.

“I’m sorry, Zuko.” She sounded concerned but slowly backed away from him like he was some kind of wild animal that she was trying to escape from. “I really am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok everyone, NOW is the time to place your bets for the burning question that I’ve been getting comments about since Chapter 1: what is the deal with Katara? Guesses (incorrect or not) get a gold star from me in the comments. This is your last call for predictions, and I want to hear all of them! Sorry for the long buildup for it, but I just love writing fics with hidden identities.
> 
> Can you tell I based the dressmaker on the matchmaker from Mulan? I just wanted to have a little fun before the drama started 😭
> 
> As always, I have a few cultural notes I want to point out. Japanese is full of homophones, the meanings depending on which Kanji is used when writing something. Okami means wolf written like this: 狼. Okami can also mean emperor or someone’s wife (among other meanings) with different Kanji (御上), which is why if you were fluent and the prince of your nation invited your friend to his party as ‘my wife, Kya’ or ‘Emperor Kya’, you’d want to double check how it was written. Calling your wife Okami-san is like calling her ‘the missus’ or something cute like that, so what I wrote isn’t an exact translation, but you can catch the flirty double meaning. 
> 
> Additionally, the whole ‘romantic ballroom dancing’ thing is very European. I’ve tried to model Fire Nation cultural practices on Japanese, Korean, and Thai culture, but none of them really had something like what we’d think of as regal ballroom dancing. Heian Japan sort of did, but their traditional dance was slow and rigid and not romantically inclined (at least not directly, unless you count men watching women dance and going ‘dang look at her sleeves’ as romantic). As a result, the fashion I describe here is also Westernized because a lot of Asian court dresses weren’t meant for dancing. Speaking of Heian, writing a coded invitation to your crush calling her your wife was very that time period; all noble women and men did back then was cheat, write, and sit around the house looking fancy.


	18. Avatar Aang

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who gave me their thoughts/predictions/guesses about Katara last chap! I had a lot of fun reading through them and getting a gauge on how you all picked up/interpreted my foreshadowing. Without further ado…here it is.

* * *

I remember going about my day as normal, beginning an order for twenty-dozen pink and green _sakuramochi_ to celebrate the incoming spring, only hearing the news when I went back into the servant’s quarters for supper. I overheard the maids quietly whispering about it at the table, with whispered voices and cupped hands. I was in complete shock at first; I figured it must have been a new rumor that someone started. But no, it was very real, and watching everyone bristle as they tried to figure out what to do with their newfound national treasure pulled at my heartstrings.

-An excerpt from the personal memoir of Jyuu Takahashi, Head Pastry Chef to the Royal House

* * *

Katara’s first instinct after she’d scurried back to her villa was pack up her belongs and run. It was cowardly, and she even considered leaving without giving anyone notice, but that would look too suspicious. Her servants would know immediately that she was gone and would report her disappearance. Although she had healed considerably from her injury, she wasn’t sure if she had the strength to be a stowaway on a long voyage or to win in a scrap if bandits tried to rob her. If she ran there was a good chance she might not survive on her own this time, and she had no place to run to. She was trapped this time. 

The second thing she thought might work was to hide. She could play ill, feigning that she was worse than she really was so that she could avoid the meeting. Zuko would probably understand that; he didn’t want to push her into dancing the night before if she wasn’t up for it, and he was always asking how her recovery was going. She did just that, telling her maids and her friends the next day when they came to check up on her.

“Why’d you leave so early, Kya?” Miki asked from her bedside, “weren’t you having fun?”

“I didn’t feel well,” she lied, “Guess I just drank too much.”

Her friend nodded. "That's ok. We were just hoping you’d stick around; I think everyone was.”

“What do you mean?”

“You didn’t get to dance with anyone,” Yun sounded disappointed.

“Oh, um…I don’t really know how to dance, honestly.” This was starting very much to sound like a previous conversation that she was trying not to think about, so she eagerly changed the subject. “What did I miss?”

“Oh, it was magical!” Yun put her hands under her chin and grinned. “The fireworks at the end were stunning, and I finally got a dance with Prince Zuko towards the end.”

“He danced with all of the girls, just as a formality.” On Jin finally chimed in to remind the two not to lose their heads, but even she had a lighter air about her today.

“Yea, but you didn’t.” Yun sounded concerned as she turned back to her, even though she’d finally gotten what she wanted. “He looked kind of glum after you left.”

“He’s always dower,” she said, easily waving her friend off. He hadn’t been when they were talking, but she wasn’t going to tell them that.

Her three friends looked at one another before Yun said, “I don’t want to pry, but you two seem really close.”

“We’re friends,” she said defensively.

“Yea, I know,” Yun said, “and again, I don’t want to pry, but I saw you talking on the balcony that night. Did he say something to you? You seemed kind of—”

“No,” she insisted quickly, “he was a perfect gentleman. I just…wasn’t feeling well.”

From the look on her friends’ faces, her sentiment didn’t change their opinion on the matter.

“You know,” Miki said tentatively, “just because he’s our prince doesn’t mean he’s above reproach. If he made you feel uncomfortable or anything, it’s ok to tell us.”

Katara felt her shoulders slump. “Nothing like that happened, I promise. But thank you for checking up on me.”

On Jin nodded and gave her a pat on the shoulder. “If you do need to talk to us, we’re always here.”

It was infinitely tempting to blurt it out and have the weight lifted from her shoulders, but if she was going to spill then she needed to be smart about it and tell the right person. On the second day after the ball, Katara decided it was time to come clean to Zuko. He was probably the only one who could truly help her with this, even though she wasn’t entirely sure how he would react or what he would be able to do. She was tired of the cowardice and the lies; lying to her friends the day before was hard enough. She practiced in front of the mirror for an entire morning as she prepared the story and her words, but was stonewalled when she tried to secure a meeting with him.

“I’m sorry,” the red-armored guards said sternly as they blocked the entrance to his chambers, “his Highness is very busy today, and has instructed us not to let in any visitors.”

She wrought her hands together. “Well, can you ask? Can you say it’s Kya, and that it’s very important?”

“No exceptions,” the other guard reminded her, “we apologize for the inconvenience.”

“Can I come back at another time?” Her throat began to feel as dry as chalk as she worried. “Or, maybe tomorrow?”

The first guard exhaled, seemingly annoyed. “We’ll summon you if his Highness has an opening in his schedule for visitors.”

She tried to keep her dejection to herself and bowed shallowly to the two. “Ok. Thank you.”

On the third day, the day that Aang was set to arrive, she wept. She thought about trying to flee once again, but it would be far too obvious to disappear the day the Avatar arrived. She spent the hours watching the clock, hoping with each new hour that she would finally be contacted by the royal guards. When sundown came and with her meeting with Zuko seemingly rejected, there was nothing else she could do. She couldn’t keep her dinner down. She didn’t sleep.

On the fourth day, the day of the meeting, she accepted her fate. In her sleepless haze, she felt numb as the maids got her dressed and ready. She marched into her final battle with her chin up and her head held high but with bags under her eyes and a clawing stomach.

She filed into the throne room with the rest of the dignitaries that had been honored enough to receive an invitation: a widely assorted group of generals, admirals, colonels, and relevant nobleman. The fire lord and fire prince were already seated when she arrived, side by side on the dragon throne. The generals, with the exception of the prince, sat around a wooden table in the center of the room while the others sat toward the sidelines. Once everyone in the Fire Nation entered and took their place, the Avatar entered the room without much pomp.

Aang looked the same as ever, a yellow sash drawn across half of his chest with the other half bare. He’d grown a beard since she last saw him, the thin brown fuzz rimming his jawline up to where his hairline would start. He executed a perfect bow before the throne and launched into his introductory speech.

“Thank you, Fire Lord Iroh, Prince Zuko, for honoring me with your invitation.” She did her best to look away and hide her face from his line of view as he spoke. “I hope that my presence here will help you foster peace and stability that your country hasn’t seen in nearly sixteen years. I…”

He broke away from his formal speech, and she could feel his eyes latching onto her. She tried her absolute best to keep her neutral composure, choosing to stare into the flames surrounding the throne instead of at him.

“Katara?” His voice was much quieter now than before, and she closed her eyes. Hearing her own name being spoken aloud again made her ears ring. She knew this was coming, but her heart lept and stuttered nonetheless. She was caught.

“What are you doing here?” She turned her head to see him walking around the long table in the center of the room and bounding straight toward her, a cheesy grin on his face. “How long have you been here? Do you have any idea how happy the chief and your brother are going to be? I searched for you for nearly a year after you disappeared!”

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken our waterbender for someone else.” The prince passively responded from the throne. “This is Kya, of the Southern Water Tribe.”

“Kya?” Aang knit his eyebrows together in the same boyish fashion that she had seen a hundred times, his sweet smile dissipating as he stopped a few paces away from her. “Why did you take your mother’s name?”

“You are familiar with this waterbender?” the fire lord asked him in a stern tone.

“Of course I know Katara.” Aang told him matter-of-factly, smiling giddily once again. “I was there when she earned the Mark of the Brave. She’s Chieftain Hakoda’s daughter, the princess of the South. She’s the greatest waterbender the South has seen in five generations, probably better than anyone in the North too, but…” He trailed off when he looked back at her. She was silently pleading with him to shut his mouth, but he did so only after revealing the vital information that she had tried to keep secret. She bit her lip, trying not to cry as he snatched her future from her and aired out her past in front of the highest-ranking military members in the Fire Nation.

The flames that separated the throne where the two silhouettes sat from the rest of the chamber grew higher and the air in the room grew unbearably warm. She felt a droplet of sweat trace it's way down the ridge of her spine.

“This meeting is dismissed and will be rescheduled,” Zuko commanded through gritted teeth, “We have a more important matter to deal with.”

The generals, officials, and ministers quickly rose from their seats and shuffled out of the throne room. Everyone remaining kept silent, the twin silhouettes on the throne stiff as she and Aang knelt before the throne. Once the door was closed again by the servants, the prince spoke again.

“Once again, I must remind you that it is a crime to lie to a member of the royal family, the punishment being death. Explain yourself.”

“Watch it.” Aang snapped back at him, but between the two he had much less anger in his voice.

“Prince Zuko,” the fire lord spoke calmly next, “it would be best to allow her to speak without fear of reproach. A live princess and a happy Avatar are more preferable than the alternative.”

She took a shaky breath to try and compose herself. “The stories I told you of my past were not lies,” she assured the two royals, “but I’ll fill in the gaps between them with the truth.” She awkwardly adjusted her weight to sit up straighter and told her story.

“The South retained heavy losses from the Civil War with the North. We were proud to fight against the injustice we received from them, but my father realized that our numbers had grown too thin. There were only a handful Southern waterbenders left in existence; the others either killed or captured. I was one of them. It was time to end the fight, to live to fight another day. Part of the peace deal that was brokered called for an arranged marriage between the two tribes. I was to marry Hahn, the son of a good family in the North. I accepted.” 

She noticed the twitch in Aang’s jaw as she said the last sentence and continued onward. “But Hahn was not a kind man. I saw when I met him why they paired us together: he would never allow me to bend again, and I didn’t out of fear of extreme reproach. I could fight Hahn off, but any act of aggression toward him would break the treaty of our peace. It was futile. Moreover, despite not being a bender himself, Hahn seemed very concerned with the kind of powerful waterbenders my bloodline would produce…I couldn’t stay idle and get treated like chattel.”

“You never told me that Hahn was that bad.” Aang said next to her, the hints of anger stirring in his voice. “I could have stopped it.”

“No, you couldn’t have,” she shook her head, “It was already too late by the time I realized it. You were only there to broker peace, you didn’t understand why they made that demand. If they brought me up North and made me Hahn’s slave, then the South would lose its best warrior. That was their strategy all along; to get me out of the way and subservient. That’s what they really wanted.”

“I could have forced them into an alternative,” he insisted, “where you could stay home and be safe.”

“What else would they have agreed to?”

“Your brother is married to Princess Yue of the North, to replace the arranged marriage that you broke.”

“What?!” She stood up in shock and clamped a hand over her mouth, horror-stricken at the realization. She had hoped and prayed to the spirits that her tribe would go unharmed after she’d left, but an invisible metal vice around her heart squeezed unbearably tight when she heard of her poor brother’s fate. They had taken her brother, they’d gotten Sokka, they’d imprisoned Sokka the way they’d imprisoned her in some sham of a marriage, and it was all her fault.

“Neither tribe knew where you were,” Aang continued, “You left with your betrothal necklace and you didn’t take a ship, so the North figured that you were taken back home by the South. The South thought that the North had killed you and were trying to cover it up. With both sides bickering again, I searched the Earth for you to try and resolve it. When I couldn’t find you, everyone thought you must have run away and frozen to death on the Northern Plains, or maybe that the North really was covering up your death, but even Chief Arnook had no idea. To make a quick, peaceful amend, I brokered a marriage between Sokka and Yue. Your father was reluctant to send his son North after what happened with you, so she came to the South.” He gave her a reassuring smile before continuing. “They’re happy together; they really are. You have no need to worry, they’re a good match.”

Hearing that last sentiment made her breathe a sigh of relief. She tried to release the tension in her shoulders and sat back down in her seat.

“I ran away,” she finally confirmed, “I waterbended myself from the capital of the North Pole to the Earth Kingdom.”

“That’s…” Aang trailed off when he realized the implications of that.

“It wasn’t easy,” she affirmed his suspicions, “I nearly drowned doing it when I got caught in a storm. I threw the necklace Hahn gave me somewhere in the ocean so that no one would find it. Once I made it to the shore, I looked for work and travelled and tried to keep my head down. I took my mother’s name and hid my bending and my heritage the best I could so I wouldn’t arouse suspicion. Eventually I found myself in the Fire Nation, completely unaware of the conflict here until I arrived. I walked right into the middle of a battle, and then I went into service for the Fire Nation military.”

“If I were you, Avatar Aang,” Zuko finally spoke again, his voice much calmer this time. “I would see to the annulment her previous arrangement immediately. Here in the Fire Nation, she has a reputation for ripping out the throats of men who try to force themselves on her.”

She could feel herself flushing as she remembered that night again, and Aang looked over at her sternly. “For the sake of not upsetting your family any further, I'm going to pretend like I didn't hear that. With your permission,” he turned back to the prince and the fire lord, “I would like to personally escort the princess back to her home. After my work here is done, of course.”

“This seems like the best course of action,” the fire lord agreed, “If the Water Tribes find that we are harboring someone of such high importance, it would start another conflict that we do not need. The water princess is in your hands, Avatar. She will be placed under guard here until you are ready to leave.”

“Thank you.” Aang bowed again. “I’ll send word to her father immediately. I suggest you do the same and explain that she hid her identity from you to avoid detection.”

“Please,” she bowed deeply before the throne and begged, “please allow me to stay under your protection until I can be assured that my marriage is annulled and that the North will not force me to marry again. I ask for sanctuary until I can be certain of my safety.”

“Sanctuary?!” the prince’s temper flared, “You beg for sanctuary after lying to the people who already gave it to you without their knowledge? Do you have any idea of the political mess you’ve brought us into?”

“Prince Zuko!” the fire lord sternly rebuked, “you forget to acknowledge that she nearly died for this country, a country that she was not born into nor has any reason to protect.”

“You nearly died here?” Aang’s voice rose as well as he turned back to her, “fighting in the Fire Nation’s civil war?”

“I nearly died fighting for my own people every day for a year!” she retorted, “I nearly died for my freedom from the North; my life has always been in peril.”

Aang gave her a dumbfounded look before continuing his verbal tirade. “And what did you nearly die doing here that was of the same importance as your people and your own freedom?”

She bit the inside of her lip. “I took a lightning bolt for Prince Zuko.” 

The room fell silent for a long stretch of time, the only sounds resonating around the chamber were the crackling of the wood-fueled fire surrounding the throne.

“The princess will have sanctuary until her marriage is annulled,” the fire lord finally announced, “I will send word to the chieftains of the South and North of her presence here and assure both parties that she is safe. That will be all; I must discuss these arrangements privately with Prince Zuko before we reconvene.”

* * *

Zuko’s week had been rather poor. He had spent the rest of his evening the night of the ball drunkenly berating himself in the mirror about how stupid he’d been and how he had surely ruined his friendship with the person who had saved his life when he’d been trying to do her a favor. Why couldn’t he have just been honest with what he had meant? He knew why, but if he had, then maybe he wouldn’t have upset her. The hangover the next morning had not been pleasant, but life went on and so did his workload. He managed to sneak away to spend the evening by the pond, sulking to his dragon as he complained about his situation and snoozing through the night with Druk’s head in his lap like he used to do as a child. The following day his uncle seemed intent on pestering him; at least he’d given him a day to rest after the celebration before he inquired about the nice young ladies he was not-so-discretely thinking of having over for dinner in the following weeks. Zuko slammed the door shut and barred it. 

The only bright spot had been yesterday, the day the Avatar arrived. His uncle was far more concerned with the Avatar than with him, and he was eternally grateful that dinner was spent with airbending tricks instead of subtle suggestions and politics.

All this time, all the pain and worry, and she hadn’t been upset at him; she was upset that the Avatar was about to blow her secret. Now that he knew none of it was his fault, he was angry all over again. He was angry that he let the person that he couldn’t get out of his head manipulate him into feeling so terrible when she had thoroughly lied to him. She lied to him from the very beginning to her own advantage, and like the fool he was, he fell for it because of his own unrequited fantasies. She even lied about her name, the same name that had drilled itself into his mind like a moleworm, the same name he said to another woman. As soon as the door closed with a resounding thud, he couldn’t keep his mouth restrained any longer.

“You can’t possibly guarantee her safety until the marriage is annulled,” Zuko snapped, “It could launch us into the middle of another civil war between the two Water Tribes if the North refuses to do so.”

“A leader must look out for the men that serve him before himself,” his uncle calmly reminded him, “even if the man that serves is a woman. We owe a great debt to her. She helped change the tide of the war, and you would not be sitting her today if she did not feel fierce loyalty to our throne. We owe it to her to try.”

“We owe her nothing,” he retorted, “She repaid the debt she held from killing my captain, she is free from our obligation.”

His uncle studied him for a moment, pensively scratching his beard, before he spoke again. “Why do you care so little for the person who saved your life?”

“She did what any of my men would have done.”

“Is that all you think of an act of sacrifice? An obligation?”

He scoffed. “It was war, uncle. No one wanted to be there.”

“Then you are more than happy to send her off to an arranged marriage with a husband that will surely be the death of her?”

For the first time in several days, he felt a pleased smirk graze his face. “That’s not going to happen.”

“And why not?”

“Because the Avatar is in love with her.” Zuko had been watching him very carefully throughout the situation. He saw his concern when she brought up risking her life. He saw how hurt he was when she brought up her marriage and her cruel fiancée. He heard the tone of his voice shift when he fiercely wanted to protect her and how he quickly softened it to say her brother was ok and to assure her everything was fine. He couldn’t know for certain if there was anything between them, but the Avatar undeniably had eyes for her. If he’d given his blessing to her previous marriage, he would never give a second time after hearing her strife.

His uncle hummed in agreement. “You’re taking this so personally, I would almost say the same about you.”

He whipped his head around to face his uncle, using the entirety of his willpower not to incinerate him on the spot. “You’re so intent on seeing me married off that you’ll push the thought on any girl that dares enter the palace, won’t you?”

“I was hardly suggesting marriage,” his uncle replied innocently.

“You have been since the moment I got home! She embarrassed us, especially myself, in front of the military leaders loyal to us and to my late father. The entire nation knows that I placed my life and my reputation into the hands of someone who lied to us. Give me a reason to be pleased with her.”

“I would be much more concerned with her honor than your own.” His uncle heaved a great sigh before rubbing his face with his hand. “When I woke up this morning, I was ready to lead my nation into an unprecedented unification by inviting the Avatar into my throne room. But now, I have instead an unhappy water princess, a lovesick Avatar, and have positioned my fledgling nation on the brink of an international conflict.”

“Never a dull moment,” he commented dryly. 

Iroh held his head back up. “I’m getting too old for this, Zuko.” 

He took a deep breath and tried to calm his nerves, and by extension, his uncle’s. “If it comes down to it, we’re going to have to do whatever the North wants of us. It sounds like they’re the ones with ruling power, not the South.”

“I know,” his uncle slowly nodded, “This is not our battle to fight, even if it would be a deep betrayal toward her. That is why we must leave her care with the Avatar. The people of the Water Tribe are very set in their traditions; they will take the knowledge of her breaking her proposal with great offense. All we can do is make her comfortable as our guest of honor and wish her the best. That is the protection we can offer her.”

“And try to convince the South and North not to go to war with us for harboring a political refugee.”

“That is for the Avatar to handle,” his uncle said pointedly, “She’s gone from the frying pan into the fire, and back to the frying pan again.”

Zuko audibly sighed and stood up on the throne. “I’m taking my leave to work on rescheduling the other meeting. You’d better not go strutting around the palace proclaiming I’m in love with the water princess, or the Avatar will have my head and you’ll be without an heir.”

“You’re so worried about the Avatar finding out?”

“I would be if there was something for him to find out.” He casually parted the fire around himself as he walked down the steps and onto the main floor.

“The woman he loves took a lightning bolt for you,” his uncle reminded him as he walked away, “You are the one that invited her into the palace and promoted her within our ranks. You should take some time to meditate on how you have placed yourself in this situation.”

He bit his tongue to hold in a curse and kept walking. The Avatar, whom he hoped would help him bring peace to his nation, was going to kill him if he wasn’t more careful about keeping his emotions in check. Perhaps his uncle was right for once: he needed time to meditate on his position and what he was going to do about it. He needed time to process this before he spoke with either the Avatar or her again. He had a sneaking suspicion that it would take longer for him to adjust to her new name than to forgive her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m a pretty big Sukka shipper (not nearly as big as Zutara but that’s one of my favorites), but I think Yukka is really cute too! And in this AU, it makes sense for them to be in a political marriage. I purposefully didn’t tag it to avoid spoiling the surprise, but if you go back and reread the first chapter I kinda foreshadowed it in there months ago 👀. I’m going to keep it untagged to preserve the surprise for anyone reading in the future (unless anyone really complains), even though their relationship will get brought up occasionally from now on.
> 
> Anyway! That’s the big reveal. There will be obvious consequences with this, and I promise we’ll start getting to the good stuff before the last nine chapters end.


	19. Aftermath

* * *

The reason my brother and uncle will lose this war is simple. We may be from the same line, but it is well documented that the blood of Agni does not flow evenly through her descendants. There are those in this family with more ambition and intellect than others; we were born that way, born superior and more apt to lead the land of fire in a way that pleases Agni’s eyes. The divine right to rule is something one must be born with to succeed, regardless of circumstance or the status of one’s birth, and others simply do not possess the same fire in their stomachs as I do.

-taken from the personal writings of Fire Princess Azula

* * *

After the outburst in his courtroom four days ago, Zuko and his uncle tried to go back to life as normal. The peace negotiations began in earnest, and the water princess was removed from the proceedings with her villa placed into protective lockdown. If it were up to him, she would be moved into the palace for additional protection, but his uncle wasn’t having it. He wanted her to stay where she was with no visitors until her own people could have an input on the situation. More likely, it was because his uncle knew about the myriad of hidden passageways dotted around the palace and he didn’t want any risk of her escaping right under their noses.

Zuko didn’t agree with imprisoning her in her own home, but without a better solution, he didn’t have much of a choice but to allow it. Instead of protesting, he decided to be good and do what his uncle asked, which at the moment involved treating with some of the nobility that helped them during the war. Dinner at the palace was the typical ‘thank you’, and tonight was no different.

He was trying to be polite, to make conversation here and there when prompted, but these situations were never his forte. It was bad enough that he kept forgetting the name of the wife, who honestly barely spoke to begin with. At least he knew the daughter; she was his age, one of his lieutenants during the war, and they shared a mutual friend. Although they were careful not to discuss her, they had enough in common to be able to speak with one another without it feeling forced or uncomfortable. At the very least, their conversation seemed to be making his uncle pleased.

“May I speak with your daughter, privately?” He finally asked the father after dessert had been consumed and the evening was drawing to a close.

“Of course, your Highness,” the father obliged, her mother’s face remained just as stoic as before, but the slight twinge of her painted lips betrayed her. He knew what this looked like to them; the girl knew what this looked like. He tried to let those thoughts go as they were practically pushed into the adjacent study by her parents, who undoubtedly were eagerly waiting right outside the door to listen in alongside his uncle.

“How is she doing?” The lieutenant asked the second they were alone as she made her way to the sofa.

“Well, from what I’ve been told.” He felt guilty saying it now, knowing that he intentionally hadn’t spoken to her since the incident that forced his uncle to lock her up in a glorified cage. “I wanted to ask you about her.”

She chewed her lip and looked toward the opposite wall. “I had no idea. She didn’t give us any indication.”

He held up a hand and tried to calm her nerves. “I’m not questioning your loyalties. I just want to know if she may have told you anything out of context that may make sense now. She’s in enough pain; I don’t want to interrogate her about her past, but I also need to know what kind of situation she’s in.”

The girl looked around the room and mulled it over. “She mentioned that she was in a relationship with an Air Nomad, but…”

But she hadn’t said who it was. He knew that there might have been something between them, but he had been unable to tell if Katara had once shared his affections or not.

“Also,” the girl continued slowly. “She mentioned they were talking of getting engaged, but the war got in their way.”

He ground his teeth and looked out of the window. How many men have proposed to her; better yet, how many powerful men? He could easily see why she had a string of suitors a mile long, but the poor girl was getting thrown around between them like a pawn. She was forced to jump from the Avatar to the Northerner, and now the two would come to a head. He could envision it now: the Avatar holding one arm, the Northerners holding another, pulling her in half between themselves as they squabbled.

“Your Highness?” the girl asked, and he realized he’d been zoning out.

“It’s not entirely unexpected,” he turned back around to answer her. “Thank you for confirming a few suspicions of mine.”

“Of course,” her reply was stiff but polite. “Is there any other way I can assist you with this…matter?”

“I was thinking…” he tried to find the correct words. “You know her better than anyone, besides the Avatar. Do you know of any way I could make her more comfortable?”

The girl gave him a confused look. “I’m not sure if I understand your meaning, your Highness.”

“She’s coming over for dinner later this week, the fire lord’s idea to show her our support.” He didn’t mention that he hadn’t convinced his uncle to do that yet, but he figured this little stunt would give him enough leverage to let Katara out of house arrest for a few hours. “How should I tell the cooks to prepare the meal?”

“Ah,” the girl’s expression cleared up a little. “Her people don’t have spices like we do; tell them to keep the dishes relatively simple, avoid phoenix peppers, and no papaya,” she said lastly and most sternly.

“Thank you for the advice. I’ll be sure to pass it along.”

“More than happy to help, your Highness.” Her bow was perfectly straight, her hands not a centimeter out of line; the picture of a Fire Nation noblewoman. If there was a perfect example of who should be the next fire lady, it was her: perfect poise, soft-spoken, military experience, a good family. She reminded him too much of Mai; the perfection and expressionlessness were almost stifling. Despite what his uncle thought, he had more important things to worry about besides getting married. Namely, what he was going to do once the two Water Tribes received the letters he had sent them.

"So," his uncle prodded as they walked back to their chambers together. "How did you enjoy your evening, Prince Zuko?"

"It was nice." It was the same answer he gave every time his uncle asked.

His uncle hummed, unconvinced. "Hitoshi On Jin was in your company, yes?"

"Yes. She was a fine soldier."

"I'm sure. What were y—"

"She knew Katara personally," he cut his uncle off before he could get it out. "She wanted to be able to speak freely with me about her friend without prying ears."

His uncle finally got the message, and they continued their walk back in silence.

* * *

Aang was the only one allowed to visit Katara. It sucked, at least for her.

They could barely find the words to have a proper conversation with each other, him asking everything and her answering what she could. He threw her suspicious glances when she brushed over the details he would find unsavory, knowing when she was lying but not wanting to know the full truth. She didn’t tell him about Jet or Haru, the details about what happened between her and Hahn, the full story of her ripping out that captain’s throat or her murder of Admiral Zhao, and he chastised her over and over about not trying to contact him.

“I visited there for a little while I was putting down the rebellion,” he repeated for the third time in a week after she brought up her travel through a small village in the Earth Kingdom near the desert, “I just don’t understand why you didn’t try to find me.”

“All the travelers talked about how dangerous the Eastern Earth Kingdom was. I wanted to try and avoid the conflict.”

“You must have heard I was there, though,” he pushed a little harder this time.

“I did. I also heard the Dai Li were wiping away people’s memories. That’s scary, Aang, even if it was just a rumor.”

He sighed and scratched his thin beard. “No, you’re right. You still came here, though?”

“I heard about the conflict here, but I didn’t know how bad it was. No one in the Earth Kingdom thought it was any more than royal infighting; I didn’t know it was a full-blown civil war until I arrived and got caught up in it. I figured it was safer in the Fire Nation than in the Earth Kingdom where they were killing the lower classes and turning them into mindless servants.”

“The Earth Kingdom was pretty bad,” he told her solemnly. “It’s better now, but nothing you’re saying about it is wrong.”

“Really?” she asked incredulously, sitting forward on the sofa, “The Dai Li were brainwashing people?”

“Yea, they were.” He smoothed a hand over his shaved head. “You wouldn’t believe how deep the conspiracy went.”

“Well, what happened over there?” She leaned her elbow on the couch, eager to finally hear the full story and to change the conversation subject away from herself.

Aang took a breath and sat up straighter. “You remember when I had to leave the Southern Water Tribe, right before…?”

“Yes.” She tried and failed to hide her bitterness. “I remember.”

He swallowed and awkwardly looked around the room. “Look, I know leaving you all was a mistake; I had no idea the North was going to use my absence to do…that…I’m really sorry.” He cleared his throat before continuing. “But I left because the Air Nomads at the Eastern Temple captured a few agents and wanted to execute them after the nuns heard rumors about people being murdered in Ba Sing Se for protesting tax hikes. Obviously capital punishment is really unorthodox for us, especially for people of a different nation, so I had to see what it was all about. That trial was where I met their leader, Long Feng, real skeevy guy. He wasn’t the one in the hot seat, but he was the head of the Dai Li and came to defend them. No one in the Dai Li talked when we put them on the stand; it was like they were all reading from a script. It felt like talking to a brick wall for all the information the nuns got out of them. Right before the monks were going to call two witnesses against them, they were both found dead and we had to have a mistrial. Long Feng and the agents went free.”

“So, when did you hear about the brainwashing?”

“That came out much later.” He pointed at her, growing more excited as the story went along. “A few years after the trial at the Eastern Air Temple, everyone realized they’d crawled out of Ba Sing Se into some of the other cities and were starting to cause problems. My earthbending teacher personally threw them out of Gaoling when they tried to create a hold for themselves there. Once I heard that she did that, I went back to set the record straight and put an end to it. She and I went into their base in Ba Sing Se and uncovered everything. They kept meticulous records on everyone who supported their regime and who didn’t, they recorded who they were brainwashing and why they did it, their secret executions without trial, they even had a file about me! They were basically in control of the Earth Kingdom; the Earth King was just their puppet. It turned out they’d been doing it for years, it just wasn’t brought to light until people in Ba Sing Se started disappearing en masse. After that came out, it was over. We destroyed their base, took Long Feng to trial, and threw him in prison not long ago; the Dai Li are all but disbanded now, hopefully.”

“Wow.” She folded her legs and pulled her knees to her chest. “So, how are things now? If you deposed of the people running the Earth Kingdom, didn’t that leave a power vacuum?”

“It did,” he confirmed. “I almost thought about not coming here until I could personally oversee the creation of their new government from beginning to end, but my earthbending teacher offered to do the legwork with that. She’s the daughter of nobility and she’s probably the best earthbender in the world, so there’s no one better to help them restructure the government. And I kind of figured I’d done all I could over there, you know? I haven’t really been involved with Fire Nation politics since I found out I was the Avatar, and they need my help here, too. Plus, the Fire Nation has the best food! They have a new fruit in season, like, every three weeks here.”

“It took me some getting used to.” She hugged her legs a little closer. “Everything’s so spicy, I could barely eat anything for the first few weeks without it burning my mouth.”

“The meat is, but that’s an easy problem to avoid for me.” He leaned back and put his hands behind his head, flashing an easy smile. For a brief moment it felt like old times, politics and problems forgotten, until one of her maids interrupted them in the sitting room.

“Mistress, Avatar Aang,” she bowed politely. “Prince Zuko has requested your audience, shall I let him in?”

“Yes, Sako, you can let him in,” she responded while Aang stayed silent.

“Ah, good, you’re both here,” Zuko said awkwardly as he entered, looking at both her and Aang. “The reason I came was that I wanted to personally invite both of you to dinner this evening in the palace, but now it can be done with one trip instead of two.”

“We would be honored, your flamliness,” Aang answered for both of them, giving him a perfect bow.

“Right.” Zuko gave him a wary look at the mocking title; she knew Aang meant nothing by it, but Zuko probably didn’t know better. “Guards will escort both of you to the palace proper around seven.”

Zuko next turned to her, asking softly, “may I speak with you for a moment, alone?” 

She turned to Aang, who nodded and walked toward the doorway. “I’ll be right outside,” he announced as he left, leaving her alone with Zuko.

“I want to apologize for the way I behaved,” he began, immediately throwing her off guard. “This isn’t an excuse, but I was having a tough week and I let myself get emotional about it and I’m sorry for taking it out on you in the worst way possible. I was upset that you lied to me because I trust you, but I’ve been thinking about it for a few days and I know that you didn’t lie to hurt me personally, you were doing it to protect yourself. I understand why you did what you did, and I’m sorry that I wasn’t there to support you immediately.”

She was stunned. She thought that she had shattered their relationship after the truth came out; he was never very patient, and honesty was an expectation. “Thank you for understanding,” she replied quietly, too bewildered to say anything more.

“Is that why you were so anxious the night of the party?” he continued. “Were you trying to tell me this then?”

She tilted her hand back and forth. “Yes, and no. At first, I wasn’t going to. I wanted to hide or run or something, but I realized that I can’t keep running from this forever. A few days ago, I tried to get a meeting with you when I was ready to talk about it, but the guards wouldn’t let me through.”

Zuko grumbled something to himself and pinched the bridge of his nose. “My uncle was getting on my nerves that day and I told them not to let anyone in. That was meant for him; they didn’t even tell me you came by. I’ll be sure to tell them that, from here on out, that you’re the exception to that rule.” 

He broke away from his brooding to look around the room, his anxiety beginning to show. “If you’re upset with me, you’re allowed to be. My behavior was unacceptable.”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Can we please go back to being friends? Please? It’s been so hard to be alone with only Aang through this.”

“Of course,” his face softened. “I was going to ask you the same thing, actually, but I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about it. For the record, and speaking as both your ally and your friend, I think you made the right decision. In our position, we often have to sacrifice our personal happiness for the good of our people. Your union would have brought suffering both to you and to the South. You did the right thing by leaving it behind and doing it in a way that didn’t cause unnecessary conflict. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

That was when she finally let a tear fall down her face. Out of everyone, she never expected him to empathize with her. For so long, he had been the cold, distant general that she was forced to bow down to. She had only recently begun to think of him as a friend after they shared their secrets. And now, he was speaking to her like what she was: his equal.

She wiped off the tears and composed herself a little. “The title of princess doesn’t mean much where I’m from. We don’t have servants or a fancy palace to live in like you do here.”

He nodded. “My sister used to say that the divine right to rule is something you’re born with. You were born into a position of power, and even after you left, you proved yourself here and worked yourself into a position of power. Whatever the title means or doesn’t mean is irrelevant because you’ve made yourself worthy of it. Don’t belittle your own achievements, and don’t fool yourself into believing you’re a bad leader. If you were, you wouldn’t have made it this far.”

“Thank you.” She quietly wiped her face with her hand again.

“Don’t run off again,” he said warily. “We’ll figure this out. I’ll let you know what’s going on with the Water Tribes as soon as I know. Good afternoon.” He gave her a curt nod and left her be.

As soon as he was gone, Aang came storming back into the sitting room. “I don’t like him.” He announced as he threw himself in the chair next to where she was sitting. “What did he say to you?”

“He was being kind. He was just offering his encouragement from the royal family.”

“He threatened your life the other day, after all you’ve done for them? I can’t believe he said that to you.”

“He had every right to be upset; he trusted me, and I lied to him. He personally apologized to me for his outburst. He’s not going to have my head, Aang, we’re friends.”

She heard him huff as he sat back down. “I think you’re giving him a little too much credit.”

“Excuse me?” she asked, incredulous as she started to feel the first inklings of roiling anger in her gut. “You’re the one that came here and started trouble. He was the one that wrote to you and asked for your help here, and I’m giving him too much credit?” 

She exhaled and held her head in her hand, “You just had to come in here and open your airhole, didn’t you?”

She hadn’t said the last sentence softly enough for him not to hear it, and as soon as the last syllable left her mouth he flinched like he’d been stung. “How was I supposed to know you were hiding here and that I couldn’t say anything? The Avatar can do a lot, but I can’t read you mind, Katara.”

She threw her hands onto the armrests and pushed herself off the sofa. “You have no idea what I’ve been through these past few years. All you’ve ever done is show up once everyone bad has happened and meddle because you think you know what’s best for me.”

“I know you lost your mother,” he shot back. “You know how much it hurts to lose someone you care about. You leaving was really difficult for me, for everybody! The spirits told me you were dead, Katara. Your family was devastated that they had to lose you and Kya within two months of one another. I didn't like signing that treaty and letting you marry Hahn, but you told me it was what you wanted to do; that it was your duty! I know why you left and why you hid, but you know, if you needed help, you should have come to me.”

“Oh, sorry, I’m sure you’ve suffered much more than I have!” She spat in return, the hands at her sides clenching into fists. “You think I don’t want to see Sokka and Dad again; you think I didn’t miss them every single day I was gone? I didn’t leave because I wanted to, Aang.”

“You didn’t have to!”

“Yes, I did!” She stood firm and looked him straight in the eyes as she said her final piece. “If I refused and went crying to you, they would have restarted the war. If I stayed and kept my mouth shut, I would have been Hahn’s broodmare. You’re acting like I ruined my life but look at where I am!” She waved her arms around the ornately furnished room, her ornately furnished room. “I was doing great without you! I can handle myself and I know what I want! Now the North will want to restart the war or hurt me and my family, and it’s entirely your fault!”

She could feel her throat growing hoarse from the screaming; the absence of it leaving the room in a deafening silence. The only thing she could hear was the last of it ringing throughout the room, the heaving of her chest, and the rapid pounding of her own heartbeat. Aang schooled his anger and gave her a sideways glance before slowly getting up from his seat and grabbing his glider by the door.

“I didn’t come here to argue with you, or to ruin your life.” He said mutely as he took his staff in his hands. His eyes were a stormy grey tempest, kept firmly fixed on the bamboo floor. “If you don’t want me around you, then that’s fine. I can do that.”

“Aang…” She tried to find some kind of apology as she hugged her arms around her midsection, because it really wasn’t entirely his fault and she probably shouldn’t have yelled at him like that, but he cut her off.

“No, Katara. I think we need some space from each other right now.” And with that, he saw himself out the door and left her alone. She didn’t have to peer out the windows to know that he’d unfurled his glider and gone off to wherever the wind took him. That’s what he always used to do when they fought; she’d scream and he’d fly off and let her simmer alone. He was correct in that they needed space, but getting a gust of air in her face and watching the orange tailfin on his glider sailing off to who knows where never placated her temper.

She made up her mind very quickly that she was not going to allow herself to cry, not about Aang. She stormed through the sliding door that lead to her courtyard, nearly breaking the thing when she slammed it shut, and she sat herself down in a particularly nice patch of grass underneath the cherry blossom tree. She was still too weak to push her body with bending practice; instead, she pulled out a thin twine of water from the pond and manipulated it with her hands. She poured her emotions into trying to bend it in ways that water was never meant to naturally flow until her wrist began to hurt.

She sighed and dropped it back into the pond. She was going to have to slowly get back to where she was before the injury, starting all over yet again. Eventually, she gave up the practice and went back into the house to go get ready for dinner.

* * *

At the appropriate time, a dozen royal guards came knocking upon her door and escorted her to the correct room. To her surprise she was the first to arrive besides the servants, who quickly set out a tray of fruits and berries and poured her cups of tea and wine to sip while she waited.

The wine was one she’d never had in the Fire Nation before. It was very unlike the strong rice wine and spiced firewiskey that was seen at celebrations. It was sweet, bubbly, and blush-colored; according to the wine server, it was intended to pair with the several courses to be served at dinner. Even so, she downed an entire glass before she was joined.

“I apologize for being late.” Zuko was the first to burst through the door, fixing his robes as he walked to his respective cushion at the low table. “Druk decided to stick his big head into the kitchens.”

“Oh.” She suppressed a chuckle at the image of it since he was clearly upset. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, everything’s fine, he just wanted something to eat.” He rolled his eyes and sat himself down across from her at the table; there was a quick flurry as the servants fetched his own drink. “Sometimes I wonder if he’s even tame.”

“How do you tame a dragon?” she tentatively asked.

“It’s a long, arduous process with very little reward. I would not recommend it.” He grumbled as he took a taste of the wine. “Most people spend weeks just trying to get close to a dragon’s den without getting burned alive, and that’s before they even try and get it to like them. The way I tamed Druk was a little…unconventional compared to that, but it still wasn’t easy.”

“How so?”

“Most people tame an adult, but when I…got him, he was very young.” He glanced around the room quickly when he said it, as if afraid someone would walk by and overhear and correct him even though the only occupants of the room were servants who stayed as quiet as snowmice.

She’d known him long enough now to be able to ascertain when he was hiding something. “Did you steal him?”

She could see him bite the inside of his cheek to hide a grin as he looked down at his table setting. “I didn’t steal him.”

“Wow. You’re a terrible liar.” He gave her a glare without any venom but still refused to explain, so she continued to prod him. “I can’t believe you of all people would steal a sacred animal and lie about it.”

“I really didn’t steal him,” he finally relented, “my father received him as a present from some nobleman or trader or something. This was back before the war, of course. The mother had died, and someone had taken the little guy in so he didn’t starve to death, and eventually he found his way here. Neither my father nor my sister could get him to stop biting their fingers or setting their clothes on fire, so I ended up taking over his care when they couldn’t control him.”

“A boy and his dragon.” She continued her ribbing, but she gave him an encouraging smile through her drink in the hope that he’d continue.

“I think it was when I just turned ten,” he said, grabbing one of the bite-sized fruits laid out in the center of the table and popping it in his mouth. “They kept him locked up in this little sparrowkeet cage because they couldn’t figure him out. My father eventually said he was going to release him, and I asked if I could do it since they wouldn’t let me near him before that. Dragons can only be tamed if you’re an exceptional firebender and I wasn’t very good for my age; my sister was a prodigy, so that’s why she was allowed to give it a go. An untamed dragon is dangerous, no matter how small, so I had to beg to be allowed near him. I took his little cage out to the garden and opened it up, but he wouldn’t fly away; he was too scared to leave his cage. I had to coax him out of it with a piece of meat, but that just made him get attached to me. And now, I’m stuck with him.”

Her giggle pealed through the dining room, and he rewarded her with a rare but genuine smile. “You talk about him like you hate him.”

“I don’t hate him, he’s just very young and he behaves like it. Very few people tame dragons to begin with; it’s more common among royalty, but no one had ever tried to tame one from a hatchling before. It took me months before I could break him of the habit of teething on everything.”

“Now he just licks you and tries to steal sweets from the kitchens like a little kid.”

He chuckled, downing the rest of his wine glass. “Licking is much better than ripping your hair out. A topknot is the perfect size and shape to fit in a baby dragon’s mouth. Dragons aren’t very social, but the young curl up with their mother when they sleep for warmth. He did that with me, but he’d wake me up in the middle of the night chewing my hair. When he was still small enough I put him back in the cage at night because I didn’t want to be awakened at some ungodly hour with dragon spit caked in my hair. He figured out how to open the latch on his cage after a while with his claws; I spent the next few months trying to get him to sleep through the night like he was my child.”

Another burst of laughter echoed around the room, and he joined with her this time. She could feel tears beginning to prick at her eyes, her lungs empty of air; they only quieted when the door opened with another visitor for dinner.

“I was worried I would be the last to arrive.” The fire lord sat himself down at the head of the table, and she tried to hide a wince as she explained their missing guest.

“That’s my doing. Aang and I had a bit of a… disagreement earlier. I’m not sure if he’ll be joining us. He means no disrespect by it.”

“You must be quite a formidable young lady to scare the Avatar away from dinner.” The old man remarked before his drinks were placed in front of him; she gave him a coy smile in return.

“How long have you known the Avatar?” he probed again as the servants began serving the first course, a light cucamelon salad. The fire lord at the head of the table was served first, Zuko next, and her third.

“We first met when I was eighteen; I suppose that was nine years ago now? He came to learn waterbending at the South Pole. He stayed for about a year, then left.”

The fire lord nodded and picked up his chopsticks from their rest. His utensils were the same as hers: twin chopsticks of creamy white jade, the upper portion featuring a silver dragon inlay, the lower portion tipped with silver, resting on a holder carved in the shape of a dragon. “Did you have the same instructor?”

“No,” she gently picked up her own pair from the holder and attempted to mimic the way elegant way he held them. “I was his instructor.”

“You mastered your element in eighteen years?” the fire lord asked incredulously, looking up from his salad before he could attack it. “No wonder he gave you such praise.”

“I still haven’t mastered all of it, but I mastered the Southern Style by fourteen.”

“Fascinating,” he gave her a warm smile. “Both the Avatar and my nephew have learned from you, and you don’t even proclaim yourself a true master. You’re far too humble.” The first sentence earned him a nasty glare from Zuko that he promptly ignored as he began his meal.

“Mastery of waterbending doesn’t give you a fancy title after your name like it does here. I suppose that’s how we stay humble.”

She was worried they might find the jab offensive as she finally took a bite, but Zuko cracked a little smile again and the fire lord put a hand on his stomach and gave a hearty laugh. “Didn’t the Avatar say you were Katara the Brave, or something along those lines?”

She smiled, being pleased that he remembered that one little detail. “I have the Mark of the Brave. Young people in the Southern Water Tribe go through a ritual called ice dodging, where you navigate a ship through the ice floes with your father, usually when you’re around twelve to fourteen. I did mine at eighteen because… well, even with how progressive things are in the South, sometimes it can still be a bit backwards for girls. If you do it successfully, then that’s considered the first step to becoming a man. Each person that makes it gets one in a set of marks. Aang and I earned our marks together.”

“Navigating a ship through terrain like that at a young age sounds difficult,” Zuko said.

“That’s why it’s a right of passage. You can’t be a proper mariner if you can’t navigate the ice, and you have to learn to do it to bring food home to your family.”

“It sounds like a harsh existence,” the fire lord said. “But also a simple, honorable one.”

“If it’s such a peaceful life,” Zuko inquired. “Why did the war break out, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“As I’ve mentioned before, the culture between the two Water Tribes is very different. Northern culture follows more of the ideals of Tui and La, the moon and ocean spirits, so much so that the crescent moon and wave motif has become the symbol of their tribe. They interpret the ways of yin and yang into their everyday lives, particularly pertaining to how it can be applied to feminine and masculine. Gender roles are extremely rigid there; women don’t leave the home and can only use their waterbending to heal if they’re permitted to by their husband. Men do all the hunting, fighting, and sailing, and they hold the ruling power. They keep things that way because they believe it makes Tui and La pleased and will therefore bring their tribe good fortune.”

“I can see why someone such as yourself might not follow those types of teachings,” the fire lord admitted as he finished his salad with gusto, the empty bowl immediately being carried away.

She nodded. “Things in the South are looser. Where Northerners fixate on black and white, we fixate on grey. Our philosophy focuses more on the fluidity and adaptability of water. Southerners encourage individualism and freedom, the thinking being that our people can endure and adapt to anything. We pray to the spirits of the hunt, of nature, and of the weather along with the moon and ocean. Instead of rigidly worshipping Tui and La we primarily worship to Amarok, the spirit of the hunt who takes the form of a tundra wolf, which became the symbol of our tribe. In the North’s opinion, all of this makes us less favorable and more blasphemous. The two tribes had a particularly bad fishing year, so bad that the lights didn’t show, and the North attributed the spirit’s anger to our ways. When my father refused to bow down to their demands, the North attacked. They were so desperate to appease the spirits and end the famine that they thought that was the only way.”

There was a lot she didn’t say. They wouldn’t understand how she would fast for days because she would rather her people were fed than herself. She had to watch her own men, women, and children starve, and there was nothing she could do to help them. Everyone was so desperate that they barely had the strength to fight.

“The Avatar helped considerably,” she added, trying to keep the conversation from dimming as the second course was laid out. “Aang brought both sides aid so we didn’t die of starvation, he forced the Northern fleet back when they tried to attack, he convened with the spirits the best he could. When he had to leave to attend to another matter, the North saw the advantage and took it to end the war.”

She paused. “We lost my mother that day. After the death of his wife, my father bent the knee. The Southern Water Tribe is still separate from the North, but we only have a skeletal puppet government left. We deal with the day-to-day issues ourselves but abide by Northern law and tradition to prevent angering the spirits further.”

“I’m deeply sorry for your loss,” the fire lord said with a nod of his head. “Unfortunately, this family knows the same pain. You already know of the loss of my son, but we also lost Prince Zuko’s mother, Lady Ursa, to this war.”

“You’re correct,” Zuko’s words were clipped yet polite. “That is something Princess Katara and I have in common, and I think we would both appreciate a change in subject from the tragedies of the past.”

The fire lord looked slightly stunned, but Zuko merely continued with his meal. “My apologies, Princess Katara. My nephew is correct, this is inappropriate dinner conversation.”

She silently thanked Zuko forcing the abrupt change of conversation, and the fire lord quickly switched to a lighter topic. Each course was small but exquisite, and altogether filling. Before she knew it, several courses, glasses of wine, and hours had passed. During dessert, paired with a darker wine, it began to rain. The fire lord mentioned it would be one of the last rains of the season before summer’s arrival in another month or so, and Katara let the sweetness of the confectionaries and the warm company sink into her heart as the light drumming of rain pattered against the tiled rooftops.

* * *

“Why did you never tell me the irony of calling you a wolf?”

She smirked at him as the two walked alongside one another, flanked by a dozen guards, as she was escorted back to her home. The only reason he’d decided to join her was for insurance; he knew that twelve guards would be easily dispatched by a master waterbender in the pouring rain. In this weather, Zuko probably wouldn’t have a good chance at beating her either, but at the very least giving her an escort allowed him to keep an eye on her.

“It never came up in conversation,” she finally answered. “For so long I tried to hide any trace of my Water Tribe identity; anything that didn’t need to be said wasn’t.”

He stopped right at the edge of the overhang of the roof of the walkway. She made a motion to step out into the pouring rain, but stopped when she realized he wasn’t following.

“Don’t tell me the Dragon of the East is afraid of a little drizzle?” she mocked, leaning one hand against a nearby pillar.

“Silk is expensive. I don’t want to increase taxes just so I can hop through the rain like a squirrel-toad.”

She gave him a puzzled look before stepping backward out into the torrential downpour. At the same time, she put one hand above her head with her palm facing upward and easily deflected the rain around herself, keeping her dress and hair perfectly dry.

“I thought a general would be prepared for any situation,” she teased with a sweet smile. “You need to add more practical clothing to your wardrobe.”

“Silk is perfectly practical, just not in the rain.”

“It rains six months out of the year here, and you sound like a girl.”

He rolled his eyes. “Get home before you catch a chill."

She flashed him one last smile. "Thank you for dinner, it was lovely.”

The small garrison followed her toward her villa, and she deflected the rain from their heads as well. He leaned up against the pillar she had her hand on minutes ago, watching her harmlessly walk through the storm. Was she intentionally swaying her hips like that to taunt him further, or was that just how she walked? He supposed he'd never really looked at how she walked before. And why wasn’t she wearing silks to begin with? She should be, it was insulting to have a princess staying as a guest of the royal house and not providing them with adequate clothing. She mentioned before that her status didn’t really come with those kinds of things, like hiring a tailor to measure and fit silk dress robes. He should arrange that for her; it would be dishonorable to have her family come here and see their daughter dressed like a commoner.

Wait a minute, what was he thinking? Buying silk dresses for a girl; everyone would think she was his concubine. The family was desperate for heirs, but not so desperate that he would do something like that. It wasn’t shameful to be the concubine of royalty, but her culture didn’t have such a thing. It would be a grave insult to her family if they came here and heard that was her reputation. He could feel his face getting redder as he continued to think about the consequences and implications. He pushed himself off the pillar he was leaning on and sulked back inside the palace proper alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the Fire Nation is bedecked with gold, but I have another cultural fun fact reason as to why their chopsticks are silver! Silver chopsticks were reserved for nobility and were used as a precautionary measure against being poisoned. I can’t find which country/region it originated from in a quick google search, but they believed that the silver tip would tarnish and blacken if the food was poisoned. It wouldn’t work unless the poisoner used a lot of something that contained sulfide (like arsenic sulfide); sulfide isn’t contained in all poisons and it wouldn’t cause the silver to tarnish quickly enough that you’d notice it before you ate your food. It’s still a neat idea, though.


	20. Complications

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little forewarning for this chapter: the way that the two Water Tribes refer to one another is...not nice. I’m gonna put up a tw for racism just in case (they don’t use slurs, but it’s not exactly PC either).
> 
> This was also originally two separate chapters but I got impatient and squished them together. I haven't decided yet on whether I'm going to nock this down to 26 chapters or not, but I might.

* * *

My mother was a ladies maid and had been since before the war started. My grandmother worked for nobility as well; not the royal house, the Tachibana’s I believe, before they fell out of power. I might have been a maiden at the time, but the one thing that was instilled in me by my matriarchs was to recognize the signs and keep your mouth shut about them. I only knew that something happened once or twice, and I certainly had no idea who was responsible for it. Of course, I had my suspicions as to the nature of it, but I very much liked my job and my unbroken neck, therefore I didn't think too hard about it. I simply went about my business after walking in one morning to the smell of a bitter tea blend being brewed that I knew neither me nor the cook bought. I know you’re hoping that I’ll give you some wild story about love and lust, but a good maid never spills her secrets.

-An excerpt from an interview with Maejin Fujiwara, lady’s maid to the royal house

* * *

It took well over a month to get a response from both chieftains of the respective Water Tribes in regards to Katara’s situation. It was currently summer in the South but polar winter in the North, which meant that sending letters via hawk or ship had become nearly impossible as the thick winter ice froze over the harbors and the northern gales moved in. After several more exchanges, it was agreed by all parties that they must meet in person if they were going to solve anything properly. Within another few weeks, the two Water Tribes gathered their delegations and set sail.

Although letters took time to write and send, both delegations were expected to arrive within a week of their departure dates. Katara wasn’t surprised; she touted that her people were the best mariners in the world and that capable waterbenders at the helm could travel the length of the sea in two weeks if the winds and tides were favorable.

By this time, summer was in full bloom. The rain melted away and was replaced by a humid heat that browned the foliage and cracked mud into dust. The Fire Nation had reached a tentative peace within itself after he and his uncle disbanded his father’s military leaders and agreed to pay them ample enough a stipend so that they were not rewarded but they would not rebel. The clans that served Ozai fled to their estates in the country to simmer instead of letting the soreness of their loss fester. Only a handful of houses refused to do so, and their titles were promptly stripped and given to one of his supporters during the war. The political tension was mellow, although personal differences had arisen here and there in the peace forums. 

He and the Avatar spoke regularly; they worked well together and were able to put their grudges behind themselves. Zuko noticed that the Air Nomad seemed to avoid his company outside of the throne room, but he was by no means hostile. However, the Avatar had a proclivity toward his uncle; he often found the two drinking tea and trading proverbs over a game of Pai Sho before dinner.

Zuko saw Katara from time to time, determined to give her regular visits and insisting his uncle let her go outside at least once a week. He tried not to dwell on the fact that she mentioned offhandedly that dinner was the highlight of her week and reminded himself that it was only because she was allowed out of the house. For the past two weeks they’d been sparring together, another excuse she put forward and his uncle allowed so she could be permitted to leave the house. It was clear as day that she’d lost a considerable amount of skill after her injury although the wound had healed neatly into a starburst scar on her navel. He didn’t push her, but he never allowed her to win out of pity. They’d practice until she tired, which was usually after only an hour, and they’d go their separate ways. He didn’t ask if she practiced or dined with anyone else besides himself despite knowing exactly how short her list of permitted visitors was.

The morning the delegations were set to arrive all four were stationed at the port in the lower portion of Caldera City, eagerly scanning the horizon for the telltale blue flags and wooden bows of Water Tribe catamarans. The first ship that arrived was singular, the figurehead at the front of the wooden bow carved into a wolf’s head. The mouth was open and snarling, and between the teeth contained a whale oil lantern to light the way forward.

“That’s my dad,” Katara explained as the ship docked, the waterbender stationed at the tip of the bow pulling the ship close enough for the dockworkers to secure it to land.

Zuko politely kept his distance, standing with a straightened back as the Water Tribe ship secured its gangplank. Katara quickly left his side, walking toward the wooden ship and looking upward. A middle-aged man with a lunar crest on the breastplate of his armor appeared at the top, gripping the railing tightly and looking downward.

“Katara…” He slumped his shoulders and neither said anything more. They ran toward each other and met with a hug in the middle of the gangplank. The man swung her around, gripping her so tight that they nearly molded into one mass of blue. When they finally separated, the chieftain looked down at his daughter and spoke.

“Could never keep you away from the fighting, could I, little waterbender?”

She sniffled as tears fell down her face, burying them against her father’s chest. The Avatar twitched next to him, and he reached out an arm to prevent him from trying to comfort the girl.

“Give them their time,” he told the monk, who gave him a distasteful look before reluctantly agreeing and staying put.

She finally pulled away after another long moment and wiped her tears with the back of her hand. “Where’s Sokka?”

“Sokka had to stay home.” He guided her down the gangplank and over to the procession. “He misses you, and he really wanted to come, but with things tense again he wanted to make sure the tribe was safe. We have a lot to discuss with him, but not now.”

She cracked a watery smile for her father. The Avatar finally stepped forward, greeting the chieftain by gripping his forearm and shaking with a nod of his head.

“Chief Hakoda,” the Avatar turned to himself and his uncle. “Allow me to introduce the Fire Nation royal family; Fire Lord Iroh and Prince Zuko.”

His uncle gave the Water Tribesman a nod. “We are honored to welcome you into our home, and into the Fire Nation.”

“Thank you, both of you,” the chieftain said earnestly, even though his face was a mask of chiseled stone. “Thank you for finding my daughter.”

“Chief Hakoda,” Zuko quickly bowed to the man. “I want to formally apologize for putting your daughter in danger during our civil war. I had no idea of her true identity, and if I had, she would never have been put in harm’s way.”

“You’re going to have to tell me all about how you hid yourself for so long,” the chief turned to his daughter, portraying the stern father now more than before. “The letter said you arrived in the Fire Nation a few months ago.”

“I’ll tell you everything later, Dad.” She assured him as the chieftain’s guard stepped off the boat, each wearing armor with a lunar crest and a helm made to resemble a wolf’s head. A tall, lanky warrior with long black hair stepped forward to stand next to the chief and removed his helmet one-handedly; his left arm was amputated below the elbow, his sleeve on that side synched into a knot just past the amputation point. Katara turned to their new visitor, and her face lit up as she pulled away from her father and gave the other man a hug.

“Bato! It’s so good to see you.”

The other man chuckled and wrapped her into an awkward, one-armed hug. “Good to see you, too. Have you grown a few inches?”

“I’ve been through too many winters for you to ask me that,” she snarked back as she pulled away.

“If you think she’s grown, then you must be starting to shrink, old man!” called out another wolf-faced warrior as he strode down the gangplank that Katara promptly greeted in turn.

“Chinook,” she smirked, clasping the next man’s forearm. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten that you still owe me for saving your skin, too.”

“Owe you?” he asked, incredulous. “I think you forget the time you bended an entire school of salmon out of my net when you were a babe; you’ll owe me for the rest of your life!”

She greeted the rest of the delegation similarly with a clap on the shoulder, a handshake, or a hug. She knew everyone by name, asked each about their family back home, received scoldings by them about some past transgression. Zuko always strived to be close with the people he leads, to listen to the common man and the lowest soldier, but she spoke to them like her own family. He could tell immediately that she was beloved to them, and that she must have been sorely missed.

The arrival of the Northern delegation had far less emotion and more pomp. Three ships, all larger than the single Southern flagship, rolled into port with a dozen waterbenders heading their bows. Katara thought it best that she was not present for their arrival along with the rest of the Southern delegation, so they were escorted to their rooms in the palace proper while Zuko, his uncle, and the Avatar stayed behind. The Northern diplomats, bedecked in clean white furs and silver crescent moons, sauntered into his country in a much more formal manner.

“Fire Lord Iroh, Prince Zuko.” The Northern Chieftain greeted them in turn with a proper, albeit high, Fire Nation bow. “I am pleased to finally make your personal acquaintance. Thank you for inviting myself and my people into your home so that we can solve this matter.”

Most of the other Northern men were not as kind and well-spoken. They had a haughty politeness to them; they were the kind of people that put in an air of sweetness only to sneer behind your back the second it was turned. He caught more than one pair of lingering eyes on his scar, and on the Avatar.

As to not play favorites, he and his uncle dined alone without either delegation present. Both Katara and the Avatar advised separating the two parties as much as possible; evening asking both sides to sit down at one table was asking a lot. Unfortunately, that was exactly what they were planning on doing in the throne room the following day. 

His uncle insisted that Zuko head the negotiations without his aid. Because of his outburst while hearing Katara’s true status, his uncle claimed that he didn’t wish to repeat it and instead would leave the decision-making up to him. Zuko didn’t expect to be anything more than a mediator, anyway, so he willingly accepted; making the decisions was the task of the Avatar and the two chieftains, not him. His goal was to remain neutral in this, not deepen his involvement or complicate the situation even further. However, he couldn’t ignore the disgruntled faces and heavy silence as North met South at one table for what he guessed would be the first time in many years. 

“Where is my daughter?” the Northern Chieftain was the first to speak as he found his seat. “I thought she would have joined you, seeing that this was a matter between royalty.”

“You must not have gotten my hawk.” Hakoda looked a bit anxious to inform the other chieftain. “We found out right before we were set to depart that Princess Yue is pregnant. With her health issues, and since she’s still very early in her pregnancy, she figured it was best not to travel.”

Katara’s face lit up as she turned to her father. “That’s fantastic news!”

“Indeed,” the chieftain responded, flustered. “How is her condition?”

“She’s doing well, and we’re ensuring that we have a healer constantly available for her. My son is staying with her as well, which is why he isn’t joining us either.”

“I’m sure your healers are well-equipped, but I will send my head healer South to oversee her care throughout the pregnancy and afterward.”

“Of course,” the Southern chieftain replied with a nod. “Northern healers are the finest in the world. But only send healers, if you please.”

The Northern chieftain suddenly seemed to remember the true purpose of this meeting once Hakoda made that clear. “Breaking our treaty could be interpreted as grounds for inciting conflict, Hakoda.”

“Please,” Katara pleaded, turning the attention toward herself. “My father had no knowledge of my plan to break the treaty. Don’t punish him or any of my people for my mistakes.”

“The treaty called for a marriage,” the Avatar reminded the room. “Between Southern royalty and Northern. You still have that marriage.”

“The treaty called for her marriage.” One of the Northern noblemen, stout with short-cut greying hair, rudely corrected to the Avatar. “To my son. She took our offer of peace and spat on it, and you expect me to forgive her and let this all slide?”

“No, Councilman Ryuuk, I don’t,” Hakoda spoke up again. “The marriage you asked for is secure and we haven’t made any trouble since their union. If it would please you, we could send additional reparations instead.”

“I don’t want your food or your skins,” the Northerner snarled. “I want the bitch who made a laughingstock out of my family and my tribe punished.”

The Northerners didn’t motion to stop their countryman from speaking in that manner, but the Avatar tried his best to. “Please, Councilman Ryuuk, she didn’t break her vows to directly insult you.”

“Then why did she?” The Northern chieftain quipped at Katara. “Was Hahn not good enough for your standards?”

“Honestly, no.” Zuko couldn’t help but admire the way she kept a straight face and a calm tone with her chin high. “He would have made a terrible husband, and I considered it insulting that you would not allow me to practice my bending during the duration of my marriage to him.”

“This is what happens when you let women out of the house.” One of the other Northerners griped, boasting long white hair complete with a balding crown and thin facial hair. His nasally voice, smug expression, and nonchalant lean in the chair added to his already annoying demeanor. “They start getting opinions, thinking they know what’s best for themselves and that they’re too good to marry someone.”

“You should be lucky that we allowed you to heal.” The councilman from before sniped. “With the way you Southern savages live, you should be lucky the spirits blessed you with that ability.”

Katara stood up, clearly insulted. “I will not sit by as you call my people savages.”

The councilman mirrored her behavior but slammed his palms on the table. “We’ll call you whatever we want, Southern bitch, and you’ll sit there and take it because you lost.”

“Stop it, right now.” The Avatar got up and warned the two. “We have been invited here to have a civilized, political conversation to resolve this issue.”

“Rich; an Air Nomad preaching to Southerners about civility,” the balding Northerner griped. “If we couldn’t teach them, Avatar, then they certainly won’t listen to you.”

Katara stared the man down. “How can you talk about civility when you murdered civilians? Innocent people? Women and children?”

The unnamed Northerner she had snapped at stayed relaxed in the face of her animosity. “I get to talk about civility because your people controlled the blood of ours during battle. You’re lucky we didn’t cut off every bloodbender’s hands for that, including yours, princess.”

“ENOUGH!” Zuko’s voice thundered through the hall as he finally decided to put an end to the pettiness; everyone stopped their squabbling and turned toward the throne. “You have all been personally invited here, into my home and my country. I will remind you that Princess Katara turned the tide of our civil war and personally saved my life, as well as the lives of many of my countrymen. Do not continue to insult her or threaten her so brazenly in my presence. If you cannot argue your cause without doing so, then I must ask you politely to leave while I figure out a solution to this issue with the Southerners without your direct input.”

It was a bold statement to make, but one that would still allow for neutrality. It seemed putting his foot down was the only way that anything was going to get done.

“State what it is that you want from the Southerners, Chief Arnook," he continued. "Do you want her to remarry, do you want to exile her from the Water Tribes permanently, or do you want to receive reparations?”

There were other options that he could have mentioned, like imprisoning her or making her face trial, but the ones he brought up were the most reasonable and preferable for her. He could at least try and encourage the Northerners to see reason and go about her punishment peacefully instead of letting them lock her in irons for the rest of her life. There was a long silence as the various Water Tribesman stared at the flames flickering around him; the balding Northerner raised a thin white eyebrow, Chief Hakoda gave him an admiring look, Councilman Ryuuk’s face twitched in disgust as if he’d smelled something rotten.

“She cannot marry Hahn,” the Northern Chieftain finally responded, breaking the unsteady silence. “Hahn married someone else in her absence. However, we will consider another match for her.”

“Would you really risk that again, chieftain?” Councilman Ryuuk asked incredulously. “What makes you think they’ll honor it this time?”

“I said I would consider it, Ryuuk,” he curtly told the man. “The Fire Prince and the Avatar are right; we have no plan of how to resolve this. We came in angry and wanting revenge without an outline of how to fix the root of the problem.” 

He addressed the Southerners, throwing glances toward his throne as he spoke. “I wish to continue these negotiations, but at a later date. I must discuss with my fellow councilmembers a reasonable solution to this issue. We will determine possible suitors for Princess Katara, as well as possible reparations that we would consider adequate.”

* * *

Although his uncle insisted on not inserting himself in the situation, he had asked over dinner for a rundown of the events. He was currently prattling on about something related to it, but Zuko was barely paying attention.

They were, almost certainly, going to take Katara away. She was going to be a prisoner once again, in either another marriage or in a cell. He wasn’t sure if he should be thankful that her previous fiancée was wed to another or not; at least she wouldn’t have to go back to him, but the only protection that he could afford her was now gone. His uncle strictly promised to give her sanctuary until her engagement was annulled, and it was. She was now at the mercy of whatever malicious intentions the Northern Water Tribe had. 

He had no idea what the Avatar could offer her. He was meant to be a peacekeeper the same as Zuko and he bowed the first time she was engaged, which he would likely do again to avoid escalating the conflict. The Avatar could only mediate, not deviate from the mandate of a governing body unless they threatened to disrupt the balance of the world and the spirits. His remarks today were fairly spineless and largely fell on mute ears; even if he was all-powerful, he didn’t have the strength to stop pretentious old men from bickering.

His uncle snapped twice and pulled his attention back to him. “Are you alright, Zuko?”

“Don’t snap at me; I’m not a deer-dog,” he bit back, then more politely, “Forgive me, my mind is elsewhere and I still have paperwork to attend to this evening. I’m afraid I must excuse myself.”

“If you’re feeling ill, then do not overwork yourself.” His uncle glanced at his plate, the food barely eaten. “Send for tea and broth later if you require it.”

“I will." He stood and gave a polite bow before he left. “Thank you for your concern.”

Zuko did, in fact, have paperwork that needed attending to, which he made a wholehearted attempt at doing until he realized he’d reread the same sentence on the same scroll ten times. He rubbed his eyes and cast it aside on the pile of disorderly papers in his private study. His uncle had taught him long ago that in situations like this it was better to take a break rather than forcing himself to run on half steam, so he lit two wicks of incense, opened the door to the terrace to let in the evening air, and meditated.

Evening meditations were another thing his uncle had drilled into him in his youth before he had mastered the art of firebending. It was an excellent way of relaxing the mind and unwinding the muscles before bed to find sleep quickly and ward off bad dreams, and it attenuated the fire in his stomach with the sinking sun. Tonight, however, it wasn’t for a restful sleep: he needed to let his mind work through the problem at hand.

One possibility was to speak to the Avatar, to encourage him to break away from the mandates of the Northern Tribe and plead for her to be sent back home. He was the Avatar after all, he could technically do whatever he wanted if he claimed it would promote international unity and peace. Zuko could offer to pay reparations in lieu of the Southern Water Tribe for the exchange. However, it would take time to convince the Avatar to side with him and come up with a plan they would both agree on, even if he did have some semblance of feelings for her, and the Northerners were unconcerned with money or goods; they wanted her. It wasn’t going to be a good option.

Another possibility would be a compromise: allow her to have an arranged marriage while allowing her to live at home. This was far more likely to go over well with everyone except Katara. Anyone aware of this matter was a fool if they seriously expected her to follow through with a second engagement, and the Northerners would be far less forgiving than last time when she would undoubtedly break it. Forcing her hand was off the table.

Not only was her marriage off the table, but he didn’t think he could stomach wholeheartedly petitioning for her permanent exile or her imprisonment. The only logical solution was to break his neutrality and make demands.

He chewed on his lip and said to himself, “I’m going to have to be the one to fix this, alone.”

Without a guard or a palanquin, he marched his way to the palace gardens and through the rows of villas. He found the one with a guard of six planted by the door, useless spears at the ready to stop the master waterbender that lived inside from escaping, and let himself through.

The maid in attendance answered the door and ushered him into a dimly-lit sitting room. The dull lighting did nothing to hide how solemn Katara looked. It was clear that she’d been crying, probably more than once that afternoon judging by the purple bruises rimming her eyes. She brightened momentarily as he entered before slumping back into her chair.

“Do you require anything, mistress, Prince Zuko? Some tea, perhaps?” The maid sweetly turned and asked after escorting him in.

“No,” Katara waved the girl off. “You can go home for the day, it’s getting late.”

The maid’s eyes flicked between the two of them, Katara completely unaware of the rumor she undoubtedly just created. “Of course, mistress. Good evening mistress, Prince Zuko.” The young girl bowed, a shallow one for her mistress and a deeper one for himself, and left alone.

When he heard the outermost door shut, he spoke. “I just wanted to come by and say that I’m sorry for the way that everything went today. If I knew they were going to speak to you like that, I wouldn’t have invited them into my country.”

“It’s ok,” her voice sounded thin. “You didn’t know how bad things were between us.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard so many backwards opinions in one sitting in my entire life,” he tried to cheer her up by lightening the tone, but she didn’t acknowledge him. “Who was the one that threatened to cut your hands off? I didn’t catch his name.”

“That’s Pakku,” she explained, rubbing her bleary eyes again. “His hatred runs deeper than his tribe’s beliefs. My grandmother turned down his marriage proposal and fled to the South as a teenager, and that never sat right with him. And he had the audacity to say that about bloodbending, like he has any idea about how it works! If I wasn’t a bloodbender, Bato would have bled out when I had to amputate his arm.”

He slowly walked further into the room and put his hands on the edge of the couch. “It sounds like you and your family are strong. You’ll persevere; you can get through anything.”

“I don’t know,” her voice wavered and she covered her eyes. “I’m so tired of this. Everything is such a struggle, and when you try and do anything they spit in your face.”

“I don’t think they’ve realized they don’t have all the power, here,” he ran his fingers along the fabric of the seat. “You’re still under my protection, and I’m not going to hand you over to them without a say in the matter. After what I heard today, I’m prepared to refuse any offer they put on the table that involves you living in the North Pole out of fear for your wellbeing.”

She uncovered her face and looked up at him. “You’d really do that?”

“I think I owe you that much, at least. Whoever they try to force you to marry, if that’s what they decide, I’ll make sure you won’t have to live there afterward. It’s a disgrace for someone as talented as yourself to have to give up their art for the rest of their life because of an outdated tradition.”

She got out of her seat, rushing over to wrap her arms around his midsection and pushing her face into his chest. He froze; not immediately knowing how to respond. What she needed was a friend, a shoulder to cry on. He hadn’t been able to give her any kind of direct support the last time she was upset, but if this is what she needed, then that was ok with him. So, he wrapped his arms around her and let her do what she needed to do. 

She finally calmed herself enough to say a shaky ‘thank you’ into his robes, unclutching her fingers from their vice-grip around the silks. She pulled away but not fully, still standing flush against him. It was then that he could study the sorrow written across her face more closely; the dimness of her blue eyes, the creases on her forehead, swollen eyelids and cheeks. Seeing her like this was almost worse than seeing her invalid in bed. It thoroughly broke his heart.

She placed a tentative hand on his chest and her eyes tracked its movement. She seemed to get nearer as she gazed back up at him, her eyes flicking between his own and his lips. Gravity seemed to pull their faces, almost too close, before he realized what was happening.

“We can’t do this.” She pulled away, stepping back as shock marred her expression. “It’s not that I don’t want this, but it’ll only cause more trouble for you and in the end you’ll be promised to someone else.”

An indignant, determined look set on her weary face. “I’m not going to marry another stranger. I’m tired of getting told what to do by old men who think my entire gender is inferior to theirs because of their interpretation of a dichotomy. I want to do what I want, for once in my life.”

He grabbed her forearm before putting a hand around her waist and pulling her flush against his chest. It was sudden and it showed in her face, but he couldn’t talk himself out of it anymore. He felt her stiffen when their faces met, all teeth and no grace. He felt her entire body tense, a little chirp of surprise escaping her throat, and for a second he’s utterly terrified that, despite her verbal consent that she wanted this, that he’d done something so unforgivably wrong that he might as well jump into the ocean and drown himself. Before he’d set his mind on the idea of dying from shame, she returned his affection by kissing him back and shifting her weight forward. And the second kiss was much easier than the first. The third was smoother than the second. After that he stopped counting; he stopped thinking entirely, his brain only restarting when she pulled away to catch her breath. She didn’t say a word, neither did he. He didn’t even dare to blink, afraid that any movement would ruin whatever had just happened. Her lips remained slightly parted, her eyebrows raised and her stunning blue eyes wide and surprised. Then, like two magnets, their lips slowly met once again.

He felt her palm ghost over his cheek to cup his face, but couldn’t feel her fingers lightly tracing his scar. He knew they were there, he could feel the warmth in her touch, but he still didn’t have enough nerve endings in the scarred skin to be able to really feel them. It almost hurt, being so blatantly reminded of his deformity in an intimate situation like this, but then he felt her fingers move toward his hair to brush it out of their faces and the thought was gone. She didn’t stop there; once that little task was completed her fingers reached further to pull out the little golden pin in his hairpiece, which promptly fell aside, clanking as it hit the bamboo floor and rolling somewhere unseen. She was trying to undress him.

That thought lit him on fire. He broke away and tried to politely ask ‘where’s the bedroom?’ which instead came out as a one-word command: “Bed.”

She didn’t seem to mind, flashing him a bright smile and one more chase kiss before grabbing his hand and dragging him up the stairs. He didn’t need to be forced to follow her, but she held on like he was about to run away.

He slammed the door shut once they were in private, and she hastily drew the curtains closed. 

Everything after that was a blur of fumbling fingers and quick kisses that were forcibly cut short to get out of garments. He knew how to remove her robes, but the two had to pause to remove the mantlepiece on his shoulders. He finally undid the last strap on hers, finally able to run his fingers along smooth skin, along her waist and upward, and—

“What is this?” It probably wasn’t the best thing to say to a woman you intend to sleep with, but he was thoroughly vexed when the part of her that he wanted to touch the most remained covered under additional fabric.

“My wrappings?” She replied awkwardly, pulling away to finally shuck off her outer robe.

“How do I remove them?”

She sighed and rolled her eyes before putting her hands behind her back and fiddling with it. Annoyed, he grabbed the front of the fabric, putting his grip between her concealed cleavage to pull her back toward him.

“Do you want me to burn or rip these?”

She swallowed and regained her balance, removing the hands from behind her back and hanging them at her sides. “No.”

“Then tell me,” he leaned very close to her face, their lips brushing together as he spoke. “How I take them off.”

After the thin threat she kissed him again, this time much slower, and she gently grasped the hand that held her white wrappings. He let her guide it toward her back, toward the end of the white fabric that was secretly tucked into the back of the garment. It took some time to unwrap the continuous string of fabric from her body, but after a few moments the white linen fell to the floor and her chest was bare.

His lips moved down to her neck, her arms looping around him to pull him downward and closer as his hand found her bare breast. He felt the weight of it, brushed his thumb along the underside, and knew he found the right place when his thumb circled her hardened nipple and she softly sighed. He wanted to take the time to touch every inch of skin, map out every curve and valley, every freckle, stretch mark, and scar, figure out what she looked like and what she liked, but she had different plans. She looped one of her legs around his hip, and as he ran a greedy hand up her thigh, she hitched her hips into his touch.

But this wasn’t how he wanted it. He stopped, grabbing her by the shoulders and switching their positions suddenly so that her back was against the door instead.

“Be patient,” he commanded, and saw her eyes darken as her pupils dilated with lust.

Katara was very much not the prototype of a coy courtly lady. She wasn’t thin and waif-like; she was someone you could grab ahold of, sink your fingers and teeth into, fill your hands with. He took the time to marvel how her breast fit perfectly in the cup of his palm, the feel of biting her full lips, the way her body molded so perfectly against his own.

She squealed into his mouth when he put both hands under her thighs to hoist her up, walking her over to the edge of her bed and depositing her there. She propped herself on her elbows, spreading her legs for him to stand between as he drank in the sight of her.

“Perfect.” He ran a hand down the line of her body, from her neck to her stomach. “Absolutely perfect.”

She arched her hips toward him again when the hand reached the last vestiges of her clothing. He slid the remaining white cotton off her, kneeling between her legs at the edge of the bed as he removed it. She let out a squeak when his tongue met her, body jumping at the contact. He didn’t let her move away, palming her ass and pulling her back down to his mouth. She eventually found her rhythm after some trial and error, gently thrusting her hips in time with his tongue. She keened whenever he found her sensitive bundle of nerves but he never stayed for long, intent on making her wait and building her up slowly so he could watch her squirm. For the second time that evening, he relished the feeling of her nails carding against his scalp as she pulled him closer, and that was when he finally gave up the waiting game to give her what she wanted.

Watching her body convulse as she came for him made him swell with pride. He guided her through it as her back arched off the bed and her legs tightened around his face, continuing the pressure until she drifted down. He gave her a moment, enough to catch her breath, before finally removing himself and leaning over her.

It was finally time to ask the question. “Are you a—”

“No,” she interrupted him, reading his mind. Thank the spirits, because there was no going back from this now and he couldn’t be responsible for deflowering a princess who, despite her protestations, was still probably going to be promised to another man.

He adjusted both of them, putting her where he wanted her and himself above as he removed the last of his own clothing. She made no move to stop or slow him, parting her legs and pulling his neck down to her. She let out a little noise as he entered her easily. He began softly, slowly pumping in and out as he savored how warm and wet and tight she was, how her breasts tightly pressed against his chest, the feeling of her hands clutching at his back to bring him closer.

He felt one hand reach down and squeeze his ass. “More,” she breathed in his ear.

This was absolutely not how he ever pictured this evening would go, but if she wanted to get fucked like a whore then so be it. He slid out before roughly burying himself to the hilt with a sharp snap of his hip. A gasp of surprise escaped her and she quickly moved her legs around his waist to trap him in, so he kept the grueling pace and fucked her into the bed. Every thrust earned him a needy pant and a worsening sharp sting as her fingernails sank further into the skin of his shoulder. When he felt her tighten around him he sank his teeth into the crook of her neck; when it made her moan even louder than before, he did it again but bit harder. It was rough and visceral; it shook the headboard, dislodged pillows from their resting place, and tangled the sheets beyond repair. 

With this pace he didn’t last long, but neither had she. He snarled and gave one final hard thrust as he spent himself inside of her, and she cried out in return. He had to fight with himself to not immediately collapse on top of her like a boy. He took a moment to ensure that he had enough wind in himself to not pass out before pulling out, parting her shaking legs from around himself, and laying beside her. Even then, he had to fight with his muscles so that he sunk down on bed instead of falling onto it.

The two lay beside one another and caught their breath, the mess they created ruining the bedsheets even further, hair knotted and in disarray, skin with a thin sheen of sweat. Neither dared move a muscle because focusing on anything other than their own haze and their breathing would mean that something had to come after this, that the consequences would set in and they’d have to atone for this.

He laid on his side and pulled her against him, nestling her face into his neck and pulling her leg to wrap around his waist. Once she grew accustomed to it, she reached up a hand to caress his cheek, trailing a finger along the rim of his jaw. For a long time they didn’t speak; he ran his hand along her side, feeling the curve of her body against his own, and listened to her steady breathing.

“I need to ask you something,” he mumbled into her hair. She responded with a grunt, so he continued. “You know I’d still be helping you if we hadn’t done that, right?”

She took a moment and pulled away, propping her face against a nearby pillow so they could meet eye to eye. “I wasn’t trying to bribe you, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Ok.”

A pause. “You don’t believe me?”

“No, I do, I’m sorry. Everything happened so fast, I haven’t had time to think about it yet.”

She turned away, closing her eyes to massage her face. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. I know you want to help, but an outsider telling them what to do is going to make them dig in their heels even further.”

“I think we’ve done everything we can today.” He traced his hand along the dip of her stomach. “Give them some time to cool off and realize they need to compromise. That’s how diplomacy works.”

She grumbled, raking a hand through her hair to get it off her face. “That’s not how they work. You heard them today, and if they find out about this, then—”

“No one’s going to find out about this,” he insisted. “I promise you’ll feel better about everything in the morning.”

She groaned again, but allowed herself to close her eyes and relax. When her breathing slowed and her body relaxed, he found the edge of the sheet and covered her. He decided to let her rest instead of rousing her, so he gathered his things as quietly as possible and redressed before snuffing out the lights and swathing the room in darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my humble opinion, a good slow burn should be written like someone who learned how to make a fire from watching a YouTube tutorial and is now trying it out for the first time. They do the research, figure out how to construct the wood and kindling in the perfect arrangement so that the loose kindling catches first, which then lights the wood and creates a long-lasting fire. They have the foundation down, but they just can’t get the damn thing to light. Either the exact arrangement is wrong, the lighter is out of fluid, or the kindling is wet; something just isn’t working. They start to get some heat, sparks and maybe a little smoke, but no fire, so they say, ‘fuck this’ and dump gasoline all over it and light a match.
> 
> Anyway, that's my way of saying that we've entered the slutty part of this fic 😈


	21. Fire and Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took a hot minute to publish. Life got busy, I started writing my Big Bang fic (for those unaware, there’s going to be a Zutara Big Bang in June, but I can’t tell you any more about the project I’m working on other than that it has nothing to do with Pride and Honor or my other published works), and then this chapter turned into the longest single-chapter update I’ve ever written. It was always going to be long, but kept feeling the itch to come back and add a scene or flesh something out more than I had originally intended to do, so here she is.

* * *

I’ve always thought the title of Dragon was slightly ridiculous and pompous. I understand that few, even within the Fire Nation, have the privilege of being in close contact with dragons to understand their behavior. For those who are unfamiliar with their kind, allow me to explain my reasoning.

Dragons are considered the original firebenders; naturally, one must be a firebender to be compared to a dragon. It is well documented that dragons only take interest in those who are exemplary firebenders, largely ignoring non-benders and those that do not possess an aptitude for the art. However, the nature of dragonfire and human fire are extraordinarily different. Dragonfire burns hotter, is exhaled through the mouth, and forms a litany of colors as it burns; human fire is weaker, is typically pushed out through the chi path in our hands or feet, and is rarely multicolored other than orange, red, or yellow. Moreover, the dragon is wise and never uses their fire out of emotion, which humans are wont to do. Instead, they use their fire like the sun uses its heat, to both create comfort and life and for destruction and drought. That does not mean that dragons are wholly calm and emotionless. Their very nature is the opposite, explosive as a volcano, impulsive, and wholly transparent about their feelings and desires. If a dragon does not like you, you will know, and there is no amount of convincing you can do to change its mind. That being said, a dragon is incredibly loyal to the few it attaches itself to, which is how the relationship between humans and dragons evolved centuries ago.

Perhaps I think exceptionally high of myself to believe that I am too level-headed to be compared to a dragon, or perhaps I am too humble to believe firebending prowess alone does not make one akin to these incredible creatures. My nephew on the other hand… that is a man I would liken to a dragon based on his temperamental nature alone, not to mention his stubbornness or his unquestionable honor.

-taken from the personal writings of Fire Lord Iroh

* * *

Katara woke in a haze the next morning, her bed a mess of tangled silks and crumpled coverlets. She would have sworn that she’d dreamed the entire thing if she wasn’t still entirely nude. Realizing the implications of what she had done sent a wave of panic through her and relaxation became impossible. She threw back the mess of silk she had cocooned around herself and stood up to grab a robe, which became far more difficult to do than she had initially thought when her both legs threatened to buckle when they had to support her weight. The first step had her clutching at her lower abdomen where a new, deep-seated soreness had taken hold; if she remembered properly, she had incited that. After a few steps everything uncramped and she found her proper footing, enough to rummage around and find a robe.

She paused dressing herself when caught her reflection in the mirror on the dresser. Her hair was a nightmare, her eyes still swollen from crying the day before, and her neck was badly bruised. To put it bluntly, she looked and felt like she’d lost a fight with a polar bear dog. She touched the crook of her neck and leaned toward the mirror to examine the bite mark that was starting to stain red and purple, the dentition of individual teeth perfectly imprinted into her skin.

The wooden surface of her dresser had also been rearranged. On it was a single red flower and a note folded beside it.

_ Meet me in the garden at midmorning. I have another present. _

Although she didn’t recognize the neat scrawl, it wouldn’t take a genius to know who wrote it. He was always one for dramatics, but the gesture was sweet. Smiling, she picked up the little flower, noting the gentle perfume-like fragrance, and tried to make herself and her chamber look like it wouldn’t give her Gran-Gran a heart attack. She combed out the mess of hair, healed the bruise, reduced the swelling around her face, stretched so that she didn’t look like she’d sprained something, and tried her best to remove the stains from the sheets.

It was nearly midmorning by the time she finished cleaning. She informed the guard around her house that she was taking a stroll through the gardens, instructing them to stand around the perimeter of the turtleduck pond where she found Zuko pensively sitting.

“Good morning,” she greeted him passively as she seated herself beside him.

He didn’t even look at her, quickly and covertly shoving a paper bag into her hand. “Here.”

“What is it?” She examined it in her hand, opening it just slightly to see what was inside.

“Don’t,” he quickly turned around and removed her hand from it. “Don’t take it out here, not in public.”

“What? Why?” She frantically took her hand away from the bag as she felt a blush creeping up her face.

“It's for, well…” he was blushing as well, “It’s for any long-term issues that may arise from…your, our…”

“Oh.” She could feel her face getting hotter, and quickly stashed it away.

“I had to steal it,” he admitted quietly. “I’m sorry, I…I shouldn’t have to give that to you. I should have had better control over myself.”

“No, don’t apologize.” She felt her stomach drop slightly at the implication. Of course he wouldn’t want to go further with this; that it could only be once. He had his political career to think of as well as hers. “It was nice.”

“Nice?” he asked, genuinely confused.

She couldn’t stop her face from contorting with worry as she looked back over at him. “What’s wrong with nice?”

“Nothing. It was nice for me, too.” He looked out over the pond. “I’m sorry that I had to leave.”

“I understand.”

“It wasn’t what I wanted to do.” He propped his arm on his knee and looked out over the pond. The turtleducks were awake as well, rustling through the reeds in search of breakfast. She hadn’t had the chance to properly eat yet with how busy her morning had been. That was good; she could use brewing a cup of tea as an excuse if anyone asked.

She turned toward him again. “I liked the flower.”

“It’s a fire lily,” he explained. “You give them to someone you care for.”

“Did you have to steal that, too?”

“No, that I bought that, but don’t tell anyone,” then, more solemnly, “I wish I could give you more.”

“No one’s given me tea before,” she replied sardonically, but that didn’t seem to make him feel any better. Truth be told, she had her own methods of dealing with these things and had never considered the tea. Tea had a lower efficacy and was expensive, but it never hurt to have a backup plan.

He pensively looked back out over the water. “You deserve better than tea and a single lily.” 

She hadn’t really thought about the gesture much more than how nice it felt to receive it, but after pondering it for a moment, she had another question. “Did you sneak back into my villa when I was asleep?”

His one good eye widened. “No. Well, yes.”

“You’re going to get caught.”

“I won’t,” he seemed almost offended when she brought it up.

“Oh, yea,” she leaned in closer and quieted her voice, “Because the fire prince sneaking through a girl’s bedroom window in the middle of the night wouldn’t look suspicious at all.”

His face was absolutely pink as it turned back to her. “I’m smarter than that. There’s a secret passage between the palace and your villa.”

She blinked in surprise. “Are you serious?”

“I didn’t plan on using it before last night,” he hurriedly assured her, “I gave it to you because I thought you’d like it, not because I wanted to sneak around and stalk you.”

“Why is there a path between one of the villas and the palace?”

He shifted his weight uncomfortably and looked back out over the water. “A lot of past fire lords and princes had concubines they’d keep in the villas. Having them and their bastards living in the palace would have been considered improper. That’s probably why that one is there.”

She could feel the heat of shame returning to her face. “Oh.”

“I swear, I didn’t put you there because I planned any of this.”

“It’s fine,” she said, waving him off. It was clear from the way he reacted last night that he wasn’t expecting it. “There’s more of them?”

“They’re everywhere. My sister and I made a game of finding them as children. She found that one; she gave the family staying there a big surprise when the fire princess appeared in their home, unannounced and unaccompanied.”

“Where’s the door?” She tried to mentally run through the layout of the villa in her mind, thinking of where a hidden door could possibly be.

He glanced back over at her. “Why do you want to know that?”

“So I can block it off and prevent a certain someone from sneaking into my house,” she said pointedly.

He gave her a once-over. “I think you’re lying.”

“Am I?”

“You were never a good liar, Karara.” Something about the way he said her name made her brain go to mush. His eyes darted to her lips as she ran her tongue over them. He looked at her the same way he did last night, just before he grabbed her and roughly kissed her, like a beast about to devour her.

She stood up abruptly, trying to shake the fog from her mind that he kept worsening. “I have to go. Get back, and uh…have some tea.”

He slightly deflated when she pulled away, turning his gaze back out over the water. “Have a pleasant morning.”

“I’m afraid the meeting yesterday has left me emotionally exhausted,” she said louder than necessary.

He gave her a nod. “I understand.”

“But perhaps I could take you up on that offer for having tea together, the day after tomorrow?”

He glanced over toward her again. “Should I bring the same blend?”

“Yes, that would be appreciated.”

He set his jaw, drawling his words slowly, “Then I will see you again.”

She gave him a polite nod, feeling much lighter than when she had awakened. Just as she was about to reach the exit to this section and leave, something large and red caught her eye. There was a dragon in the shaded part of the courtyard, and he was staring at her. He did something peculiar, putting his nose practically on the ground and giving it a few cursory licks with a forked tongue. It lifted its head back toward her and sidled across the courtyard, body undulating from side to side like a snake as it walked. She vaguely remembered Zuko’s offhanded comment wondering if the dragon was tame or not, and the fact that he had killed at least one person, so she stood perfectly still as it stared at her and lumbered its way over to her side of the garden.

He came far closer than she was comfortable with, but there wasn’t any stopping him. It coiled itself behind her back to sniff her hair, its hot breath ruffling her curls as he did so. She could feel her heartbeat ratcheting upward as she remembered that it killed the princess by biting her neck from this position. His head bent lower and found its way underneath her left hand; when she didn’t move he tilted his head upward and forward to brush her fingers along his head. 

“You want me to pet you?” she asked, stroking her hand along his scaly head. The red scales felt like sun-warmed bricks on a hot summer day. He wasn’t so hot that it burned, but was warm enough that it felt unnatural for an animal; it felt more akin to the temperature of a sauna rather than a living thing. The dragon remained still as stone and allowed her to get comfortable with his presence, but it was quickly interrupted as his head was suddenly jerked away from her. 

Zuko had noticed the commotion from across the courtyard and had yanked one of the horns.

“You leave her alone,” he stared right into the animal’s eyes and used the same terse tone she’d heard him use to command an army.

The dragon must not have enjoyed getting yelled at and man-handled, so when he released the horn it pressed its nose to Zuko’s face and gave a single sniff before slinking away. Zuko grabbed her arm in the same gruff manner that he had used with the dragon, tugging her by the elbow into a shaded corner away from the animal and the guards.

“He didn’t hurt me,” she felt the need to tell him to placate his reaction, but he didn’t calm.

“He knows.”

“What do you mean he knows?”

He let go of her arm and took another look around to make sure they were alone before pinching the bridge of his nose. “Dragons mate for life. They don’t understand that people are different.”

“What exactly does he think, then?”

“I don’t know, but he’s getting attached to you now.” He cursed as he rubbed down his face, which was quickly turning as red as his robes. “I didn’t even think about him. I apologize for his behavior.”

“Has this happened before?”

“Yes, but he’s never been this outright. He’s only let myself and my uncle touch him.”

“He’s still staring at me.” The massive red eyes blinked at her with two separate eyelids, one horizontal and one vertical.

Zuko looked over his shoulder to check, then turned back to her. “I’ll talk with him. Get back to your room before he can bother you again.”

She almost wanted to ask how exactly he was going to do that, but she decided better of it. Was he really going to prance over there and give a scolding to a dragon like it was a child? Zuko said he was intelligent, but it’s not like he could have a conversation with an animal, right? She let it go, quickly striding out of the garden and back to the safety of her guards as the red gaze continued to follow her.

* * *

“Why were you late this morning, Prince Zuko?” his uncle inquired as their afternoon meeting concluded. “Were you still ill from last night?”

Zuko had only been two minutes late, but that meant nothing to his uncle. Late was late, and Zuko was always punctual. “There was an incident in the garden this morning. Druk took...interest in Princess Katara. I had to call him off of her.”

“I hope she wasn’t harmed,” his uncle said, suddenly concerned.

“No,” he replied quickly, “He didn’t hurt her, but he did go after her a little. She was slightly upset, but it’s dealt with.”

“I see,” his uncle nodded, “Druk has always been one to be curious.”

Exasperated, he pleaded, “He’s young and he’s a dragon; he doesn't understand sometimes. It’s not his fault.”

“I wasn’t implying there was anything wrong with him,” his uncle responded. “What I meant to say is that I’ve found he often takes after you. If he has a proclivity toward Princess Katara, I’m sure it is only because of your own friendship with her.”

“That’s all you’re saying?”

“Of course,” he replied jovially. “Not every conversation is a game of Pai Sho.”

“It is with you,” he grumbled, too quiet for his uncle to overhear.

The last thing he wanted was to give his uncle any further need for suspicion so he shut his mouth about the matter as they exited the room together, finished with their work for the afternoon. To his dismay, he next found the Avatar leaning against the wall outside of the throne room, giving him a wave and a smile as he passed through the door.

“Can I have a word, your Firiness?”

“Of course,” he bid his uncle farewell before nodding in the direction he was intending to walk, instructing the Avatar to follow.

“I just wanted to talk to you about yesterday,” the Avatar started as he walked with him, and Zuko’s heart lept into his throat.

“What about it?”

“I think it's pretty clear to both of us now that the Northern delegation doesn’t think too highly of me.” The breath Zuko had been holding was released. “Well, I just wanted to say thanks for stepping in and stopping their bickering. If you hadn’t done it I would have, but thanks for beating me to the punch.”

“Meetings with that tone waste everyone’s time.”

“Yea, but it’s more than that,” the Avatar cut him off. “I really appreciate you standing up for Katara like that. It’s good to know that she has people on her side; you and myself. I couldn’t do much for her last time, but I’m going to do things differently now.”

“I actually wanted to speak to you about that as well,” he admitted. “I’ve decided that I’m not going to allow them to take her North out of fear for her wellbeing. I have no doubt she’ll be assassinated if they force her to live amongst them.”

“That’s a really good idea,” the monk gave him a crooked smile. “I don’t think she’s going to willingly accept any marriage proposals they throw at her, but I’m going to turn down any bad ones, which will probably be most of them. I don’t know everyone at the North Pole, but I know most of the big players that they’re probably put forward. I was prepared to do that yesterday too, but I never really got the chance to make the statement; they were too intent on getting into a screaming match with her instead of getting anything done.”

“Are they always that bad?” he felt the need to ask. “How do they run a country like that?”

The Avatar grimaced, “Yea, they’re usually that bad. Arnook’s nice and has a good heart, and he runs the capital city well, but the only reason they won the war was luck. They couldn’t lead a lemur to a lychee tree, let alone an army. And trust me, their victory had nothing to do with spiritual superiority. The problem is the band chieftains, who lead the different cities and provinces; Arnook is their leader, but when it comes to big decisions, it’s a majority vote and there’s a dozen of them that have to agree to something. Unfortunately, most of them are pretty strict traditionalists like Ryuuk who are more concerned with preserving their culture than with progress. Only men are allowed to vote and to be elected, which makes the sexism problem even worse. The only good thing about it is that they can’t even agree on how to sanction the South properly; they still haven’t ironed out all of the details, and the war ended years ago.”

“It sounds like they only strictly enforce the rules that make them feel directly threatened.”

The Avatar gave him a knowing look. “Unfortunately, that’s Katara. They really don’t like women being at the table period, let alone a girl telling them she’s too good for something. That’s the real reason why they’re trying to make her life hard. Speaking of,” he paused, halting their walk just as they reached a private alcove. “Do you know if anyone’s seen her after yesterday? Hakoda told me this morning that she missed dinner last night.”

The possessive, jealous part of his mind flared, because he was the only one who went to see her. He was the one to hug her and comfort her. Not her former lover and not her family; she didn’t seek anyone out, let anyone else in, besides him.

“I spoke with her this morning, to inform her of my proclamation,” he told the Avatar.

“That’s good,” he gave him an innocent smile. “I’ll see if I can pay her a visit later and do the same; figure she could use the support after what happened yesterday. How’d she seem?”

“She seemed...tired. But I think she’ll be ok.”

The Avatar nodded. “I think with both of us combining on this, that’ll make her feel better. By the way, in the next meeting, you should keep addressing Arnook as their leader like you did before. It’ll help keep the others from letting the power get to their heads.”

“Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Well, I’ll be off,” he said with a bow. “It’ll probably take a while before the Northerners can figure out what they actually want, but I’ll be in contact with you before then. See you later!”

With how casual the Avatar was, he found himself giving him a little wave as he left. It took him a minute to realize it wasn’t exactly formal of him to respond to a bow with a wave, so he shook his head at his stupidity and walked off.

* * *

It occurred to Katara far too late that the plan she had laid out with Zuko had very little structure to it other than asking Zuko to come over. There was no agreed upon time, which left her fretting the entire afternoon and staring at the various walls in a silent prayer that one wouldn’t suddenly open up and reveal the fire prince right in front of one of her maids. She once again sent her staff home early and half-heartedly read a scroll in her bedroom to keep herself occupied in between jumping out of bed to check every perceived footfall or creaking floorboard. It was well after sundown before she finally resigned to herself that he wasn't coming, or perhaps that he was unclear as she was about their arrangement. Sighing at her misfortune and dashed hopes, she pushed herself off of the bed and stepped into the hallway to find the bathing room and ready herself for bed.

Her heart nearly stopped when she saw the shadow of a person just outside her door.

She gasped audibly as she placed a hand over her drumming heart. “I didn't even hear you come in.”

“Sorry,” Zuko gave her a sheepish grin as he stepped into the light spilling out from her bedroom, “I guess I was too quiet. I thought no one would be home at this hour, but I still wanted to be careful.”

He certainly looked like he was being overly careful. Gone were the heavy robes, crown, and boots in favor or lighter clothes, quieter shoes, and loose hair. He looked dressed to take a midnight stroll through the garden, which would probably be his alibi if he was spotted.

“Well, you’re correct, we’re alone.” She finally said, nodding toward the door. “Do you want to...?”

“Oh, yea,” he said, almost surprised, and allowed her to lead.

The fiery passion of the time before had melted into awkwardness as she ushered him in. The door was closed quietly and feet were tread softly, the two standing closer than necessary to speak but far enough away not to touch.

“Sorry I haven’t been to see you,” he broke the silence, still standing stiffly against the wall. “How have you been?”

“Good. How about you?”

“Good, also.” A pause. “We still haven't heard anything out of the Northerners; sorry, I wish I had some good news to tell you.”

Resigning herself to doing to legwork, she leaned forward and traced a hand across his chest. “I don't want to talk about politics, Zuko.”

“Can I kiss you instead?”

She almost laughed at the absurdity of the question, as if he were here for any other purpose. “Yes, you can.”

Then was when he finally touched her, cupping a hand underneath her chin and pulling her up to him. It was light and sweet, and it wasn’t long before he pulled away just enough to speak, “Take off your clothes and stand at the edge of the bed.”

Perplexed by his sudden change of tone, she broke away and did what he asked, shucking off her outer robe and her bindings as he watched from a few paces away. She let the fabric pool on the floor at her feet as his eyes bored into her, studying every move. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with herself after she’d finished; she felt her face reddening under his intense gaze and modestly hugged her arms around her midsection.

He seemed to sense her discomfort, closing the distance between them and gingerly pulling her right hand away from its resting position. He thoroughly examined the hand in his grasp, lightly tracing down the length of her fingers, across the lines of her palm, and down the vein on her wrist. He looked up from his work to briefly meet her eyes before raising the hand to his lips and lightly kissing it. He didn’t stop there, pulling her arm forward to leave a trail of kisses from the palm of her hand to the inside of her elbow. He continued moving upward, nibbling slightly when he reached the underside of her bicep, and slowly worked his way from her shoulder to her neck, to her chin and to her lips.

His lips and tongue tasted like the colorful spices of the Fire Nation that she still couldn’t name. His skin, clothes, and hair smelled of cedar wood smoke that burned in the throne room mixed in with whatever sweet incense he lit when he meditated. He kissed her deeply but without any urgency as he ran his tongue across her lower lip, pulled her waist flush against his own, and tangled his hand in her hair.

With a final series of short kisses, he mumbled against her lips, “Sit down.”

As she sat at the edge of the bed, he mirrored and kneeled in front of her. Instead of putting his hands between her legs to force the apart, he cupped his hand under her left thigh, separating it from the other as he traced his hands across the planes of her skin. He repeated what he did before, mapping a road of kisses from her knee to the juncture between her thighs. She felt herself unconsciously hitch as his breath fanned against her center, but quickly left her wanting as he pulled away and repeated the action with her other leg.

She’d been too distracted to notice at first, but he had begun to loop both of her legs around his shoulders. As he approached the base of her thigh again, she pulled her calf to press him closer, but it only made him stop.

He pulled away and looked back into her eyes, “I thought we talked about your impatience. Lay down.”

She did as he asked, laying back on the bed with her arms at her sides. He moved to lean over her, taking her wrists in his hand and pulling them above her head. To her shock, he found the edge of the sheet and tied it around them, keeping her hands bound and above her head.

“Does this hurt?” he asked, running his fingers along the silk knot. “If you don’t like it, I’ll take it off.”

There was something exhilarating about the thought of him touching her when she could touch him in return, so she shook her head. “It’s ok.”

He moved his hand to cup her face. “The game is only fun if we both like it. Tell me if you need me to stop or if I’m being too rough, can you do that?”

She nodded again. “Yes, I can.”

“Good.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Things last time got carried away too quickly, and I don’t want that to happen again unless you understand you can tell me no.”

The last thing he was this evening was carried away. He used his newfound leverage to lavish her breasts, flicking her nipple with his tongue to harden it before biting it hard enough that she couldn’t help whining. He did the same to her other nipple, using one hand to massage the breast he had already worked over. Very suddenly, the hand left her chest and found its way between her legs, making her tense as it traced it along her.

“If you’re patient, you’ll be rewarded.” He said into her sternum. “Keep your hands still, and I’ll give you what you want.”

Just as he said the final word, she felt a finger slowly slip in. Her body arched and she gripped at the sheet around her hands, but she did as she was instructed as he fingered her. It was torturously slow, which she knew he must be doing on purpose. Just as she was beginning to almost feel a soreness from it he removed the hand and pushed off. For a moment she feared she’d done something wrong, until she saw him kneel at the edge of the bed to replace his hand with his mouth. He had more of a purpose this time, intentionally quickening her buildup by focusing on her clit, but still didn’t allow her to draw him closer. He didn't need any encouragement, but she still had to fight with herself to stay still and let him work her over.

And reward her he did. Her entire body seized when it hit, waves of pleasure and warmth rippling across her skin. It was difficult to breathe; it was difficult to think about anything other than the movement of his tongue until he released it from her body. While she closed her eyes and recovered, she heard the swish of fabric as he disrobed and threw his things aside. He gave her ample time, rousing her with a light caress on her knee that sent a shiver across her body.

“I’m going to untie your hands,” she heard him say, although it sounded like his voice was coming from very far away. She vaguely felt him doing the task; she flexed her fingers and wrists experimentally after he had finished, finding no soreness from disuse or strain. He propped her up, taking one arm and forcing her to sit with her hands folded against her lap.

Now that her hands were free and her body settled, the only thing she wanted was to touch. The last time they were together it was dark and rushed and very fun, but they hadn’t taken the time to really look at one another. She suddenly understood why he’d decided to play this game; he’d thought the same thing before she even realized she wanted it. She followed his lead from before, taking his hand and mapping out the shape of his palm, the callouses strung across the pads of his fingers from gripping a sword, the little cuts and healed burn scars scattered across his knuckles. She traced the vein running up his arm to his bicep, the outline of his collarbone, the broad expanse of his chest, and the chorded muscle on his stomach. He really was quite handsome, and she berated herself for never allowing herself to appreciate it before that moment. He was sharp angles, hard muscle, and healed scars; he had the body of a soldier who had been fighting for far too long.

She next went to his face, tracing his brow, the straight bridge of his nose, and down to his lips before brushing a hand across his scarred cheek. She’d grown quite fond of the scar on his face. She went from noticing it intently, trying her hardest not to notice it and be polite, to liking it; the feeling of the leathery skin brushing against the inside of her thigh was now permanently ingrained in her mind. He melted in her hands as she kissed it and brushed her fingers along the outline of it, giving him the same softness as he gave her. Eventually they both caved, lips meeting and bodies sinking down onto the cushioned bedspread intertwined.

He was deliberate and leisurely, even when he put her legs upon his shoulder to go even deeper; impossibly deeper. It was more akin to the gentle roll of the tides rather than a raging typhoon battering a rocky shoreline. She lost herself in it; in the way he grunted as he thrust, in the way his golden eyes never seemed to leave her face, in the way his warm skin felt against her own. Her body sang with it, with the warmth and the fullness and the adoration, and she found herself unraveling a second time. He worked her through it, finding his own release not long after hers as he pulled away.

She only found the strength to move when she realized that the mess needed to be cleaned up, lest she have a repeat of their last morning after where she had to do it hastily to avoid suspicion. He helped in his own way, fetching her a washcloth before realizing that she could merely take a bolus of water and use that to clean herself instead. And then they laid together, lazily enjoying the afterglow and letting the warmth and comfort sink into their bones.

“You know,” she paused from absentmindedly running a hand through his hair as he laid by her side, “we are going to have to stop this at some point.”

He inhaled deeply, pushing himself away to stare at the ceiling and folding his hand on his stomach. “I’ve been trying not to think about that.”

His sudden change in demeanor caught her off guard. He had to know that what they were doing was, for lack of better term, political suicide. If they were discovered, both of their reputations would be ruined. The finality of this arrangement needed to be discussed, but Zuko said it with such melancholy that she couldn’t help but wonder, “When did you first start thinking about this?”

He glanced back over to her before refocusing on the canopy of the bed. “When you healed me.”

“Really? I thought you hated me then.”

“No,” he said immediately, “I never hated you.”

“Then…” she couldn’t quite finish the sentence. Why had he been so commanding the night she’d been first captured or the day after her incident with Admiral Zhao? Why had he been so dramatic about working with her behind the mask, before she knew it was him? So many questions, and none of the answers made sense.

“That’s when I first started thinking about sex,” he continued, “But when you got hurt…I didn’t know what I was going to do. I felt like I failed. I thought it was just a lingering reaction to losing my sister, but it wasn’t; I think that was when I realized I wanted more than just this. I really like what we have; both this and everything else. You have no idea how relieved I was that I didn’t have to lose you and my sister on the same day.”

She felt her stomach flutter at his admission, and said without thinking, “For me, it was when Aang came back around.”

“Really?”

“Even if he wasn’t the cause of why I ran away, I realized how much I’d rather lean on your shoulder than his. You’re a better support system. I feel like you never left my bedside when I got hurt.”

“I tried not to.” He slung an arm around her to pull her closer. “I still had an army to run, but any free time I could find…I spent most nights in there, keeping watch.”

“Aang wouldn’t have done that,” she found herself admitting. “He runs away every time he’s confronted with something he has difficulty facing, and he would have had a lot of difficulty with me making a sacrifice for him like that. And he's so emotional; not necessarily in a bad way, but if I get upset then he starts to get upset and sometimes I just need someone that listens to me instead of acting on what I'm saying.”

“Do you need me to beat him up for you?”

She tilted her face upward to look at his. “That’s not funny.”

“I think it’s funny.”

“Because you’ve never fought him.”

“I’m sure you were an excellent teacher and that he’s more than capable.” He continued rubbing her shoulder. “Who was his firebending teacher?”

“I don’t know; he mastered firebending years after he left the South Pole. I stayed there while he learned the other elements, even though he really wanted me to come with him.”

“So you’ve never seen him firebend?”

“I have, actually.” She looked down at the hand she laid on his chest. “He did it for the first time while I was teaching him waterbending. He was always trying to impress me, and he got distracted a lot. It was an accident, but he ended up burning my hands.”

He paused for a moment before detangling himself from her and kneeling down at the foot of the bed. Very gently, he put a hand under her calf muscle and raised her leg upward. From the way he was staring at her ankle you would have thought he’d never seen one before; his face looked strange, only the one eyebrow furrowed in concentration with the other side barely moving as he examined her skin. She was about to ask him why, but then remembered the burns he’d given her all those months ago, right after they first met. He was looking to see if they’d scarred.

“You really do have an incredible gift.” He remarked, putting her leg down and grabbing one of her hands. He pulled her into a sitting position as he turned it over and examined her skin.

“I didn’t want to tell you this before, but waterbenders that can heal are said to be blessed by the spirit Angakkuit; the patron spirit of healing. Figured it would give you the wrong impression.”

“You dirty little liar.” He teased, kissing the hand he was examining. “What does that mean? Was it anything like what I saw?”

“No; a spirit doesn’t walk out from the water and bless you. They say that when a baby is born, and if their parents have been very honorable and treated the spirits favorably, the spirit Angakkuit dances for joy with her mate, Silla, the spirit of the wind and weather. Their dance creates a magical gust of wind that becomes the baby’s first breath, and it’s what gives them the ability to heal.”

He smiled as she regaled the story, running his thumb along her fingers. “So you’ve actually been blessed by three spirits, not two?”

She turned her face and grinned, not wanting to admit that he was mildly entertaining with how often he teased her about that. “Is it really that uncommon here to have interactions with spirits that you think my experiences with them are miracles?”

“The royal family are said to be descendants of the spirit of the sun, Agni, but people don’t readily interact with them. I’ve never even seen a spirit except for the river spirit at Jang Hui that healed you even though I’m supposed to be related to one.”

“Descendants of a spirit? How does that work?”

“It happened when the Fire Nation was still young, when it wasn’t a unified nation,” he explained. “There were constant wars between different groups of people; each island had its own clan leader, if not more than one, and they were all fighting for control. The continuous death and struggle angered the spirits. Agni saw this and instructed her grandson, a minor spirit named Amaterasu, to go down to the Fire Nation and bring peace. She gave him three gifts to accomplish this: a mirror, a sword, and golden ore. Amaterasu used the sword to tear open the sea and create a new island, this one, where he could live and rule the nation. He used the mirror to judge which of the clan leaders were good and which were bad; the mirror was magical and reflected what a person was like inside, so if you were a bad person your reflection would look like a demon. Those that were bad were turned into spirits, and those that were good were permitted to govern parts of the Fire Nation. Amaterasu used the gold and his firebending to fashion the royal headpieces when he became the first fire lord; the first to his wife, a mortal woman he met on his travels, the second for himself, and the third for his firstborn son.”

“Your spirits must look like people if a spirit could be with a woman,” she commented, “Most of ours look like animals.”

He chuckled at that. “I hope so, for that poor girl’s sake.”

“I don’t know about you, but in our legends, the moon spirit and the sun spirit hate each other.”

“To be honest, I’m not a particularly spiritual person. I don’t know about a lot of the legends besides the few that pertain to me.”

She scoffed, “Has anyone ever told you that you are an incredibly arrogant man?”

She regretted it as soon as the words left her mouth and the serious glower that he was famous for returned in all its glory. In the blink of an eye, the scene had changed from her and Zuko enjoying a pleasant conversation to the crown prince of the Fire Nation talking to his paramour, he same prince of the Fire Nation who’d threatened to kill her twice for lying, and the prince did not take kindly to his companions directly insulting him in bed. When it didn’t soften, she began to fear she’d done something very wrong; apparently that little quip, even if she had meant it as a joke, was over the line.

She flinched when he grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. “Play with the wolf, get the fangs. I’d say you’re going to be the death of me but seeing as you’ve already saved my life, I don’t think it’s very appropriate.”

She did the only other thing you weren’t supposed to do when you’re in bed with a man: laugh. He looked enamored as he watched her do so, running a thumb along her lower lip as she smiled. 

“Do you really think I’m arrogant?” He didn’t seem upset any longer, simply curious as he gently kissed her cheek. “I won’t get emotional again, I promise.”

“I don't know,” she tepidly said before quickly questioning herself. “You know what? I’m sorry, forget I said anything.”

“Don’t apologize for being honest with me. I want you to be.”

“There’s a difference between being honest and being mean.”

“You’re not being mean. You caught me off guard but that’s fine, you usually do that.” He ended the sentence with a dangerously playful dip in his tone, that little smirk returning.

“If I’m being really honest…” She laid down, putting her back in the covers. Looking up at the ceiling rather than him made it easier to say, and she really did prefer being honest with him than anything else. “I thought you were a huge asshole when we first met. I thought everyone was crazy when they said you weren’t that bad. But you’re not; you’re a sweet guy.” She couldn’t help it; untwining her fingers from his hand to run them along her face to cover the hopeless expression she was probably making. “I guess you caught me off guard, too.”

Slowly, very slowly, she felt the weight on the bed shift as he moved from beside her to on top of her. He made no motion to spread her legs or touch her, simply resting his weight onto her chest and pressing his mouth to her forehead into what wasn’t quite a kiss. She liked the way his long hair fell over her face and tickled her cheeks, but he swooped it to one side before removing his lips from her forehead and brushing them against her own. He kissed her just as slowly and gently as he had been before, like there was nothing else in the world that mattered besides that room and this night.

“Arrogant men aren’t concerned with women’s pleasure.” He told her as he moved to pepper kisses along her neck.

“No, I’ll give you that.” She felt him chuckle into her neck. “Twice in one night is good for me.”

“I really am sorry for my temper. I didn’t mean to snap; I hate being angry with you."

“It’s ok, and I’m sorry too. You know, if you want, you can make it up to me.”

She felt him smile against her skin. “I was hoping you’d say that, because twice in one night being good for you is shameful.”

Her protestation was swallowed as he gave her a searing kiss, his hands scrambling for her wrists to pin them above her head. He kissed every inch of skin on her face and neck. She squealed from pure joy, and all of her worries were long forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just like I stole the idea of Fire Nation royalty being descended from the sun spirit from Japanese mythology, I also stole the myth Zuko told from Japanese mythology. If you look up the actual myth, the imperial regalia of the real imperial family in Japan are a sword, a mirror, and a jewel that represent valor/virtue, wisdom/truth, and benevolence, respectfully. After I researched it and wrote it out, I started to wonder if the original creators took it into account when they gave Zuko twin swords, made Azula’s defining character moment seeing her true self in a mirror, or when Iroh gifted the headpiece of the crown prince to Zuko while he was in prison. Also, the reason why Zuko doesn’t know anything about the moon spirit is because people in ancient Japan didn’t really worship their moon deity. They were one of the three major children of the god of creation, but there are so few depictions and myths of them that historians aren’t sure of their gender. Katara’s myth is also based on Inuit mythology but with a few changes.
> 
> Only because I’ve taken quite a few classes on animal behavior, I’m going to explain what Druk did. It’s exactly what you think it is: that’s salamander/reptile behavior for sniffing pheromones. Pheromones are heavy organic compounds, meaning they don’t float around the air and stick to the ground instead. Salamanders and reptiles put their noses and tongues to the ground to sniff them, and their anatomy and physiology is well designed to recognize them. It’s up for debate whether or not humans produce and are able to smell pheromones, but the current scientific consensus is a solid maybe. So that was him picking up what was happening, literally. It was also an excuse for me to write him being a bastard and almost blowing everything.


	22. A Question

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that I said I’d try to do once a week posting, but this past month has been really crazy so I’m sorry for slackin. You don’t need to hear my full list of excuses, but I’m back now and that’s what’s important! I think about this story every day, so I promise I won’t abandon it so close to its end. I also promise that, when I find the time, I’ll go back and respond to the rest of last chapter’s comments too (I read and cherish every single one and love to hear what you all have to say, I’m just busy and sometimes I forget to reply).
> 
> Also, little side note, but we’ve surpassed the 20k hits mark! That’s freaking incredible! Thank you all so much for sticking around and reading this, it means the world to me.

* * *

I could never claim to hate the Northern Water Tribe. It was where I was born, where I was raised by loving parents and welcomed by a lovely community. It was where I married my first husband and settled; it was a place of comfort and warmth to me for many years. However, I would never claim that it was without fault. My husband was one of the first to die in a war perpetrated by the band chieftains whose allegiance he blindly followed; my only work while I lived there was homemaking. It wasn't until I moved to the South that I learned arithmetic to keep track of the food stores and exports, that I was encouraged by both men and women be less meek, and was asked for my opinion on legal and economic matters for the first time in my life. The North is a safe and comfortable place, but the South was where I learned about love; how to love myself and be loved by another. The only way to find true satisfaction is by shattering your little bubble and swallowing your fears; it far outweighs the immediate sacrifice to your happiness.

-from the personal memoir of Princess Yue

* * *

If you had told Zuko a year ago that the war had been won and he would return home, he would have been cautiously optimistic. If you had told him that afterward a gorgeous waterbender would be riding his cock, he would have called you insane.

It started at dinner several hours before. They hadn't had time to see one another since the last time they’d slept together about a week ago. Although he and his uncle were attempting to not play favorites between the two Water Tribes, he’d figured one dinner with a friend wouldn't hurt. The kimono she wore was blue fringed with silver and white, the sleeves short and the silken sinch around her waist taught to accentuate her slimness. The hem around her neckline was lower cut than most of the noblewomen wore; it didn’t show her cleavage, but it showed enough of her neck and collarbone that it could be considered scandalous by purists. She tied her hair back, braiding two strands on either side of her face back into a braided bun that further showed off her uncovered neckline. For the first time he hated the fact that she was a healer, because he could distinctly remember leaving a bruise on the skin that she bared and he would have really liked to have seen it.

Her dress was the perfect mixture of formal yet suggestive, but her behavior was downright provocative. With a sudden heat wave, the cook served chilled mango with sweetened rice for dessert. He’d noticed that mango seemed to be one of her favorites, and he was correct when she eagerly tore into it. What he hadn’t expected was for her to pick up a piece with her fingers and suck the juice off her thumb while staring at him. He would have accidentally set something on fire if he hadn’t choked on his tea first. Thankfully, his coughing fit caused his uncle to pay attention to him instead of her little display.

He didn’t need any more indication of what she wanted; no hidden double-meaning about having tea later. By the time he’d snuck into her villa and stole his way up to her bedroom, she was already naked. She teased him even further, sucking him and stroking him before finally pushing him down and sinking onto him. 

He also hadn’t expected her to be this good. It was almost too much; the sight of her breasts bobbing in time with the rhythm, the way she tilted her hips with each thrust, watching himself disappear inside of her. He managed to groan out one word, “Stop.”

She paused, slightly adjusting her hips as she sat up straight. “Stop?”

“Do not move.” He ordered through gritted teeth. “You’re about to make me spill already.”

He wasn’t thirteen anymore; finishing after a minute was embarrassing. He could see she was nowhere close, but despite the request she expertly wiggled her hips once again, forcing him to make a rather embarrassing choking noise. “Katara—”

“Being about to spill is not going to make me stop.”

“I...I need a minute.”

“Unless you’re in pain or terribly uncomfortable, you’re not getting one.” She put her hands on his chest, angling herself downward before riding him slower than before. “I’m impatient, remember? I’m not one to delay the inevitable.”

He didn’t need any more encouragement. All he could do was weakly grip her hips as she rode him through it. It took him several minutes before he found the strength to move one hand between her legs to help her along. Her breathing hitched as he traced little circles against her with his thumb; the harder he pressed, the more her rhythm began to falter. He felt her hands begin to shake, and with one final push she closed her eyes and let it consume her. Already over-sensitive after his own release, the feeling of her tightening around him made him groan along with her.

After she’d stopped, her body still heaving, he gently pulled her down on top of him. She nuzzled her face into his neck as she slackened and he tangled a hand through her hair to press her closer while the other hand ran along the curve of her back. He planted a kiss on her forehead, and she squirmed forward to press her face next to his cheek. “Where on earth did you learn to get that good?”

“Do you really want to know," she mumbled, "or was that a rhetorical question?”

“Was it Jet?”

He felt her body tense, her eyebrows shooting up to her hairline as she pulled away to look at him. “Where did you hear about Jet?”

“You told me.”

“No I didn’t!” She protested, putting a hand over her mouth. “What do you mean I told you?”

“All you said was the name, when you were injured.” He figured he’d pushed his luck enough with his teasing and backed down. “You didn’t tell me anything else.”

She sighed with relief and sank back down onto his chest. “I feel like you’re always five steps ahead of me. Am I really that easy to read?”

“No, and yes.” He conceited, running a hand along one of her thighs. “I knew you were hiding things from me, but I never would have guessed the true nature of your past. Is it rude to ask how many men you’ve been with? Whatever your answer is, I won’t think less of you.”

“Three, including you,” she said, gently poking the tip of his nose. “Can I ask how many for you?”

“You can, and it’s four counting you.”

She scrunched her eyebrows together. “I don’t know why, but I thought it would be more.”

He ran a hand along the indent in her spine, and closed his eyes. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t really like sleeping around. I mean, I do, but it’s hard for me to not want something more. I guess that sounds stupid—”

“That’s not stupid,” she interrupted, “I think that’s sweet.”

“I’ve thought about what you said, last time,” he admitted. “We are going to have to stop at some point, and I think we should stop when one of us gets engaged. I’ve been putting it off because…well, because of you. I like this and I don’t want it to stop; I don’t want to find someone else. I can’t keep that attitude forever.”

She stayed silent for a few moments. “I don’t really want to think about getting engaged.”

“You should; it could happen tomorrow.”

After a week and a half of private deliberations, the Northerners had finally come up with an idea of what they wanted to put on the table. He hadn’t heard it yet so everyone would be going in blind tomorrow afternoon, but he had begun preparing for the worst.

“Can you spend the night?” she asked softly.

He bit the inside of his cheek. “I want to, but I can’t. I’m sorry, it’s too risky.”

When she didn’t respond, he continued, “I know you’re worried about tomorrow. It’s going to be different this time, I promise. You have more people to help than before. Ok?”

She kept her face dour and uncertain, only cracking a little smile when he cupped her chin to squeeze her cheeks in his hand.

“Ok,” she relented, “I’ll try and be optimistic.”

“Come here.” He pulled her chin downward, and she took the hint and leaned close enough to kiss. He could feel her hesitancy on her lips, her kiss shallow and stiff, and when she pulled away he felt the same. 

* * *

Sex was Katara’s distraction, but Zuko's was a morning trip to the spa. Getting his hair combed and washed with rice water was an easy way to start the morning, and it was a nice excuse for him to silently run through his strategy in his mind. As two servants combed and the other sat in waiting, he wondered how all of the pieces would fall into place. Both he and the Avatar had plans to enact that were still unbeknownst to the Northern Water Tribe. He had no idea if the Southern chieftain knew; he hadn’t bothered to ask his opinion or input. Hakoda was a stern man of few words; their conversations thus far had only been polite and short. While his Northern compatriots had difficulty shutting their mouths, Zuko admired the man’s quiet stoicism in the face of adversity. He only hoped that he shared his daughter's inner strength and didn't crumble under the pressure.  


“Prince Zuko,” called out the nasally voice that he recognized as the one who disliked Katara’s family the most, interrupting his thoughts. “I was told I could find you here.”

He tried to dampen his annoyance at the disruption. “Good morning. Forgive me, I didn’t get your name at the last meeting.”

“Councilman Pakku.” The man explained as he strode toward where he was seated. “May I have a word?”

“Of course; it’s excellent that we could finally be introduced. You’ll forgive the servants intruding on our conversation; they don’t care for our politics.” 

Whether his servants cared or not wasn’t a concern for him; he wasn’t going to interrupt his morning for an sour old Water Tribe man who threatened to cut Katara’s hands off. Pakku strode toward his side, chin high and cold eyes wandering over the three young women around him.  


“I didn’t know men here needed so much primping and pampering," he finally said.  


“When you’ve been at war for fifteen years, you enjoy the little things,” he replied, deciding not to take the passive-aggressive insult to heart. “May I ask what I can do for you? You are welcome to the royal spa as my honored guest, but if you’d like a hair-combing I’m afraid you’ll have to wait.”

Pakku either didn’t pick up the subtle jab or didn't care. “I want to know where this country’s loyalties lie. You seemed very adamant to side with the Southerners.”

“As I explained before, I owe my life to Princess Katara, and my actions were primarily to keep civility. I’ve been in negotiations with my country's court, and I’ve learned that if both sides don’t treat each other with respect nothing will be accomplished. What I want is for this to be resolved without bloodshed, and I know Princess Katara well enough to know not to anger her.”

“You know her very well, do you?” the man asked pointedly.

“Have you heard of how her and I were first introduced?”

“I haven’t. Please, do tell.”

“She ripped out a man’s throat with her teeth, no bending. I saw the potential and let her into my army. I don’t know what kind of reputation she has in your land, but she made quite a name for herself here after that.” When the man stayed silent after his tale, he added, “I hope you don’t label her a savage.”

“You condone behavior like that, from a woman?”

“She did it in self-defense and fought honorably for me afterward, so yes, I do. To answer your question, my job as the mediator is to find an appropriate diplomatic solution for both parties. Quite frankly, I don’t have much faith in the way your people do justice, so I will not allow her out of my country unless I know for certain she will be safe and cared for. Squandering her sacrifice toward me would bring incredible dishonor on my name and this nation; I hope you understand.”

“I understand completely, your Highness,” he replied drolly with a sigh. “I noticed the fire lord was not present at the last meeting. May I ask why?”

“I’ve offered to head these negotiations to take some of the load from his shoulders. I would never imply that he is too busy for this matter, but because he has a country to run I take on the other issues that arise. However, I’m sure he would be more than happy to meet with you if you requested an audience with him.”

“Oh, I think I will,” he said tersely before seeing himself out of the chamber.

The sharp, hawkish glint in his eye made Zuko wonder if he had something up his sleeve. He tried his best not to think anything of it and go about his morning as normal. Unfortunately, his suspicions were founded the minute the Northern Water Tribe delegation strolled into the room, their chieftain carrying a hefty piece of parchment in tow.

“My fellow council members and I have deliberated,” Arnook stated, unfurling his parchment and laying it on the central table. “We have decided that in light of this incident, which has created further divisiveness between our two tribes, that we must once again call for a binding, marital symbol of unity. However, this time we will allow Hakoda to have a selection of suitors for his daughter. We are open to discussing the nature of the arrangement, including living conditions and political status of both parties, after the arrangement has been agreed upon.”

“If I might interject before we begin,” the Avatar said next. “Tribal law allows all living male relatives the right to refuse suitors for their female family members. In lieu of Prince Sokka’s absence, I will take his place and refuse on his behalf.”

Ryuuk made no attempt to hide his eye roll. “What gives you the right to speak on a tribesman’s behalf?”

The Avatar seemed more than prepared for their rebuttal. “I have his verbal consent. Moreover, when I earned the Mark of the Trusted from Hakoda, that made me a de facto member of the Southern Tribe. Because I earned it at the same time as Katara and the mark was given to me by her father, that permits me a place by their fire and at their table. Sokka might not be my brother by blood, but I’m established within his family well enough to speak for him.”

“I’ll allow it,” the chieftain nodded toward the Avatar. Their agreement silenced the pestering Northerners, and the meeting proceeded. Zuko stayed silent as names were rattled off and rejected by the Avatar; one because he was thrice her age, a second for his family’s questionable history, another for his lack of property. The Avatar brought up seemingly meager reasons, including one not having his own ship, but his concerns were listened to and understood. The Northern chieftain looked exasperated as he continued throwing out names with approving nods from his countrymen only to be shot down by the Avatar.

Arnook named another, but before the Avatar could get his argument out Katara interrupted him.

“Absolutely not,” she bristed, her tone scalding. “How could you possibly suggest I wed an Auk of Kugluktuk? Are you so misinformed that you are unaware my mother was murdered by Inuattik Auk?”

“I believe you already settled the score for that,” Pakku snidely reminded her. “A life for a life is fair, but wouldn't it promote intertribal unity to put the grudges behind and come together as one family?”

She fearlessly stared him down, “No.”

“Well now you’re just being obstinate,” said one of the other Northerners. “Do you really plan on rejecting every single option we’ve laid forward out of spite and petty grievances?”

The Avatar quickly intervened to counter. “I ask you to remember the reason why we’re here, Angok. Katara has every right to refuse, just as myself and her father have the right to refuse on her behalf.”

“Perhaps we should turn this over to Hakoda for judgement, then,” Ryuuk looked toward the chieftain, “What say you to these arrangements? As her father, the decision ultimately lies in your hands.”

Zuko may not have his sister's sharp mind for political manipulation, but he was keen enough to realize the game they were playing. Hakoda bent his knee to the North; if he refused their offers, he could be punished for insubordination. The Avatar could refuse based on his standing and go unpunished because of his nationality, but Hakoda and his people could not. Although they’d given him the right to wave, he was still under their thumb and therefore had to cooperate in some fashion. Whether Katara realized this or not was irrelevant, because he suddenly came up with a very good idea to subvert them.

“Let’s compromise,” he interjected before Hakoda could speak. “Allow the royal family to arrange a match for Princess Katara within the Fire Nation. She will be married to nobility, as befits her status as a war hero here and a princess in your homeland. She will live here permanently, will have no more direct involvement in your politics, and will be given a choice in her arrangements.”

Katara was the first one to stand up. “You ask that I leave behind my homeland and live here permanently? Separated from my family and my people?”

“You would personally oversee it?” Chief Hakoda hesitantly addressed him. “Would you make sure that she is in a good marriage, with a good man?”

“I would.” Katara gave them both a dumbfounded look that he ignored for the time being. “No harm will come to her in the Fire Nation.”

“This is a bold offer, and an unexpected one,” Chief Arnook said. “However, if Hakoda is inclined to consider it, then so are we. Allow us some time to discuss the logistics amongst ourselves; for today, this is a satisfactory end to our meeting.”

Katara stared daggers at him and was one of the last to file out of the room, waiting impatiently for him outside the door before voicing her frustrations. 

“What is wrong with you?” she snapped, her voice barely low enough not to be overheard by the other Water Tribesman who had just exited. “I thought you were on my side with this.”

“I am on your side.” He replied, starting for his private chambers in the hope of having a few minutes to decompress.

“Some friend you are,” she continued her beratement as she followed. “You’re selling me off like I’m some cheap whore that you can dump when you’re done with.”

She was trying to wound him, and it was working. “That is not what I’m doing.”

“What are you doing, then? Are you going to invite every man in the Fire Nation into your palace so I can have my pick of the crop? Who do you think I am?” 

He grabbed her arm to quietly pull her around a corner and into a semi-private alcove so she could spout her rhetoric without being overheard, but she quickly wrenched her elbow away and spat, “Get off of me!” 

“Look,” he pulled the curtain of the alcove closed, separating them from the rest of the room. “I did it to buy you some time. You can stay here and I’ll halfheartedly try and find a match for you to get them off your back. If you hate it here that much you can run away again once they’re gone, but I don’t know how long you’re going to be able to lay low after this.”

She eyed him sternly, so he continued defending himself. “They were trying to pressure your father to marry you into the family of the man that killed your mother! What did you want me to do, sit back and let it happen?”

“Zuko…” her tone drastically weakened as she put a hand over her mouth, “if I marry outside of my nation, I’ll be exiled.” 

He felt his stomach sink. He now realized why there were no objections to his proposal: banishing her and simultaneously forcing her to marry was the best way for the Northerners to enact their revenge, and he’d handed it to them on a silver platter. “Oh. I didn’t know.”

She let out a shuddering sigh through her fingers. “It wasn’t always that way; it’s an old Northern custom to discourage people leaving the tribe. But with them having control over my father...” She paused, swallowing thickly before continuing. “My family will have to pretend that I never existed. Saying my name will be blasphemous. We won’t be able to write or visit one another.”

“Maybe things will calm down in time and we can get them to relax it?”

“They’ll never let me go home now that they know what I’ve done. I just got everyone back and now I have to say goodbye again.”

The crack of her voice stopped her sentence, and she squeezed her eyes hard enough to force out the tears. “I never got to see Sokka.”

Although anyone could enter the room they were currently standing in, he chose to ignore fact. He carefully wrapped a hand around her waist and tangled the other in her hair, pulling her close so she could silently cry against him.

* * *

“Good evening, Prince Zuko,” his uncle gave him a cheery smile as entered the dining room. “How did the meeting with the Water Tribes go?”

“Disastrous.” He didn’t bother with manners, leaning his elbows on the table to hold his head as he sat. His eyes didn’t bother looking at the meticulously plated dishes or the painstakingly prepared centerpiece of carved fruit. His stomach had been in knots the entire day, and his mind was too busy trying to untangle the mess.

As he rubbed his face, he regaled the details to his waiting uncle. “The Northerners made a list of suitors, most of which the Avatar refused, but they got upset when Katara did the same. The North tried to put it all on Hakoda, probably expecting him to bend. I suggested she stay here and marry in the Fire Nation instead because then she’ll be safe but married. I thought it was a fair compromise, but the North has a law that states if she marries someone outside her nation she’ll be exiled.”

His uncle hummed, putting down his half-filled teacup for the time being. “I’m taking it that Princess Katara did not respond well to this decision.”

“No, she didn’t. I don’t know how her father feels; he seemed thankful to give her some kind of choice where she’d be well-off, but I did petition for him to exile his own daughter.”

“Her father is chieftain; shouldn’t he have a say in his daughter’s banishment?”

“The North has him by the throat; if he refuses to go along with it, he’ll likely be punished.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes in an attempt to quell the incoming migraine this was certain to cause. “I’ve been thinking about it all afternoon, and it’s simply not possible to get her in a situation where she has enough choice. She’d need the support of all of the major clans here to have a chance at standing up to the exile law, and she can’t marry into all of them. Not only that, but she’s going to refuse to cooperate with whoever tries to court her.”

“May I make a suggestion, Prince Zuko?”

“I’ll take anything at this point.”

“You won’t bite my head off if I do?”

He tepidly paused. “I always value your advice.”

His uncle signaled for the servants to exit the room. The staff members neatly filed away and left them alone before his uncle finally asked, “Why don’t you marry her?”

All the snares occupying his head unraveled as a new, deep-seated horror took their place. He didn’t dare breathe, the only thing occupying his being the thought of how much the old man could possibly know. He eventually found the composure to remove his hand from his face to stare down his uncle from across the table.

“I’m not going to presume,” his uncle started, “but I do know that you both seem to make each other happy. She’s a match I would certainly approve of for you.”

“Uncle—” he quietly warned, but he was cut off.

“The royal house can prove the support she needs in this endeavor,” he continued. “You’re correct, the power of one clan is not enough, but the power of our nation backing her will be. It needn’t turn into another war; if we merely recognize the ruling power of the South as a separate entity from the North, it should be enough. The North would be immensely foolish to get into an international war over one person while they’re still recovering from another conflict, no matter how spiteful they are. Besides, they have one pregnant water princess living in the South to begin with; I highly doubt that things would combust so badly that the chieftain would risk her safety. Who knows how the nation will react to you marrying a foreigner, but I think most of our ardent supporters will look past it on account of her title and her accolades during the war.”

His uncle leaned in closer and lowered his voice, “You should know that I overhead what I’m certain is a fallacious and presumptuous rumor with no merit behind it. Nevertheless, there are whispers that the night of the first meeting with the Water Tribes you visited Princess Katara after dark and unchaperoned, and that the next morning a case of pearleaf tea was missing fro—"

“Uncle!” He finally stopped the old man from talking as his fist connected with the wooden table, hard enough that the dishes clattered and goblets spilled. “I am not going to sit here and listen to your crass assumptions about her personal life, as well as mine! This conversation is over.”

He ignored the peculiar look his uncle gave him after his outburst as he threw open the door and stalked his way back to his private chambers. He ordered the guards to let no one enter before beginning on the route that he always paced when something like this was bothering him.

A few months ago, if his uncle suggested who he should marry, he would have been obedient and said yes no matter the selection. He expected that after the war was over his uncle would find some well-mannered noblewoman for him to wed, bed (not in the reverse order), and spoil so she had no choice but to love him. Whatever girl his uncle chose would likely resent him in some aspect of his being, either his scar or his family’s history during the war, and the last thing he wanted was to be with a woman that only saw him in contempt. Political marriages often didn’t allow love to blossom for months or years, if ever. That was how it was with his father and mother, his uncle and aunt, and his grandfather and grandmother. It was why nobility were encouraged to have extramarital relationships and why they were so normalized; you married for duty and had courtesans for love. 

He supposed he was in love with Katara. How else could he explain his behavior toward her, constantly attempting to keep her happy and out of harm’s way? How he realized only now that he would absolutely love to marry her if she didn’t kill him first for getting her into another political marriage? He loved that his people loved her as well as her own; he loved that only the most wretched people despised her; he loved her tenacity and her whit, her cleverness and her heart. And he absolutely hated that he’d put himself in a situation where he could propose to her.

He’d never intended on it being himself; it was a spur of the moment idea that at the time seemed right. Why did he never think these things through before he opened his mouth? She was already upset with him, but how would she react to this? What would her family think if he proposed? What would the Avatar think? They’d think that he was trying to keep her for himself all along. It simply felt cruel to ask her hand, especially after he’d publicly announced that he wanted her to marry in his nation. 

Groaning, he reached upward and took the pin out of his headpiece, letting his hair fall away. How could he have let himself get into something like this? He’d sworn up and down when he was younger that he was going to be an honorable leader, and now he was sleeping with a foreign princess whose nation wanted to hurt her in any way possible and his uncle’s solution to this problem was to force her to marry him.

For the first time in years he took a moment to pause, looking into the mirror of his dresser and putting a hand over the right side of his face. Sleeping with him on a whim was one thing, but having to wake up next to that every morning for the rest of your life was asking a lot from someone. He tilted his face, examining the intricacies in the latticework of wrinkles and reddened skin. Time had been kind and healed away the worst of the flakiness and callousness, but there was no denying that it looked worse than most burns did. Every time he had blinked, spoke, ate, or drank for months after the injury, it reopened the wound and caused the scarring to worsen. The only thing that healed remarkably well about it was that he retained most of his vision and hearing on that side. 

Still dissatisfied, he removed the hand and continued staring at himself. It had been less than two weeks since they’d started sleeping together. He knew that he was softhearted enough to fall in love with someone within such a short time but he doubted she would be the same, especially after how upset he’d made her earlier that day. He couldn’t go through with this, could he? He was already miserable with worry and he hadn’t made up his mind on whether or not he should propose. The only thing he was grateful for was that he’d left dinner before he had the chance to eat; the stress was going to make him sick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me an embarrassing amount of time and research to find an authentic Asian dessert that you can eat in a way that says, “come over later” without being too obvious about it. I eventually settled on Thai food; Katara’s eating Khao Niaow Ma Muang and, although it's usually eaten with a fork or spoon, you can eat it with your fingers too.
> 
> Just in case anyone is unaware what Iroh meant when he said "...if we merely recognize the ruling power of the South as a separate entity from the North, it should be enough," that’s essentially the equivalent of the US recognizing Taiwan as separate from China. I’m not going to get into the specifics of how that works in real life or about the history of Chinese/Taiwanese/western relations, but western support (both unofficial and official) is the primary reason Taiwan still exists as a separate nation from China. If the west supported Palestine, that would be a more applicable example than Taiwan because of Palestine’s occupation and colonization. However, if you want to know more, please do your own research. Both examples I’ve cited are hot political topics with years of complicated history and diplomacy, and I’m not a politician.
> 
> Thai desserts and Chinese/Taiwanese/US history... the things you find yourself researching as a writer always astound me lol


End file.
